





^/"^^ 



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EDWIN C. DINWIDDIE 

Subject 




Glass. 
Book, 



THE EDWIN C. DINWIDDIE 

COLLECTION OF BOOKS ON 

TEMPERANCE AND ALLIED SUBJECTS 

(PRESENTED BY MRS. DINWIDDIE) 



TALES 



FROM 



FRENCH HISTORY. 



BY 



SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 



FROM THE LAST REVISED EDITION, CONTAINING THE 
author's final CORRECTIONS, ETC. 




PHILADELPHIA : 

PORTER & COATES. 






0ift 

Mins. Edwin C. Dinwiddia, 

Dec. 2o, 1936 



TO 

MASTER JOHN HUGH LOCKHART. 



My Dear Boy, 

I MUST no longer treat you as a child ; so 1 now 
lay aside the pet ap}3ellation of Hugh Littiejohn, Esq 
and address you by your name. Heaven, at whose 
pioasure we receive good and evil — and we are bound 
to receive both with thanks and gratiiuo.e — r.as afflicted 
you from infancy with a delicacy of constitution. With 
this misfortune there are often connected tastes and hab- 
its the most valuable any man can acquire, but which 
are indispensable to those who are liable, from inditlerent 
heahh, to be occasionally confined to the solitude of 
their own apartment. The hours you now'employ in 
reading are passed happily, and render you independent 
of the society of others, but will yet prove far more val- 
uable to you in future life, since, if your studies are well 
directed, and earnestly pursued, there is nothing to pre- 
vent your rising to be at once an ornament and a benefit 
to society. It is with gl'eat pleasure, my dearest boy, 
that your parents remark in you early attention (o youi 
book, and a marked desire to profit by what you read ; 
nor can 1, as one of the number, make a better use of 
a part of my leisure tiuie tlian to dedicate it to jour ad- 
vantage and that of your con-temporaries, who_, I iiust, 
ivill play their parts honourably in the world, lung aftei 



4 DEDICATION. 

the generation to which your grandfather belongs has 
mouldered into earth. 

The volumes which I formerly inscribed related to a 
part of Great Britain only : but it was to that portion 
which should be dear to us both, as the land of our fath- 
ers ; and I was therefore induced to descend ^moTe into 
particulars than I should have ventured upon in any other 
narrative. I have been assured from many quarters that 
the Tales from Scottish History have been found useful 
and interesting to the young persons to whom they were 
addressed, and that some even of those whose wild spir- 
its and youthful years had hitherto left them little time or 
inclination to study, have been nevertheless captivated 
by stories, which, while they are addressed to the imagi- 
nation, are, at the same time, instructive to the under- 
standing. 

It would have been natural that I should next have 
adopted English history as my theme ; but there are so 
many excellent abridgments, that 1 willingly leave you 
to acquire a knowledge of that important subject from 
other sources. The History of England, in Letters, said 
to be from a nobleman to his son, and sometimes called 
Lord Lyttleton's Letters, but in reality written or com- 
piled by Dr. Oliver Goldsmith, gives the liveliest and 
best views of it ; to this you must, in due time, add the 
perusal of the many and interesting volumes which give 
a fuller account of the history of the more important part 
of our island of Britain. 

In the meantime, it is highly proper you should know 
something of the history of France, whose influence upon 
the Continent of Europe has almost always been strug- 
gling and contending with that of England herself, and 
with such obstinacy as to give rise to wars the most* 



DEDIC4T10Jr. a 

bloody by which the peace of the world has been at a.ny 
period disturbed. 

I have, as you will observe, been occasionally called to 
interrupt the current of the work by remarks which tho 
incidents demanded. Still, however, I have endeavoured 
to make amusement the mode of introducing instruction ; 
remembering always that I am no longer writing for the 
amusement of a child of five years, but composing a 
work to be submitted to the criticism of a young person 
who wears masculine garments, and will soon be nine 
years old. Under these increasing difficulties, it will give 
me pleasure to find that I still possess the power to inter- 
est and instruct you ; being, with warm regard, 
My dear John Hugh, 
Your very affectionate Grandfather, 

Walter Scott. 

Abbotsford, Wth Jidyy 1830, 



TALES FROM FRENCH HISTORY. 



CHAPTER I. 



The most Patriotic States have heen generally the mr.sl 
jimbitiovs — ^Iggressions of Rome vpon the Independ- 
ence of Foreign JVations — Gaid — its Description 

-- and Inhabitants — Their Religion — The Order of 
Druids — The JMditarrj Character of the Gauls — 
They invade Italy — and Greece — Their vicinity dan- 
gerous to Rome — Cccsar appointed General in Gaul 
— Resolution of the Helvetians to emigrate — The 
difficulties of their Route — Ccesar blocks up the Pas- 
sage between Geneva and Alount Jura — Pursues the 
Rtlvetians as far as the Arar, and destroys their 
Rear-guard — jit last, totally defeats them — The Ger- 
mans cross the Rhine to invade Gaul — Their Char- 
acter, Genius, and Manners — The Roman Soldiers 
mutiny, but are pacified by Ccesar^s Address — Ccesar 
defeats Ariovistus and the Germans — Conquest of 
Gaul by Ccesar. 

The love of power is deeply impressed on mankind, 
whether they have a political existence in the relation of 
states and empires, or remain in their individual capacity. 
Even in those strict republics, where individuals find it 
most difficult to raise themsrives to superior stations, 
whether by address, eloquence, or any other influential 
superiority, the desire to add to the power which may he 
enjoyed and wielded by the public at large, is more strongly 



8 LOVE OF CONQUEST UNJUSTIFIABLE. 

felt by each person, exactly in proportion to his own ex- 
clusion from individual authority ; and the reason is plain, 
because the poorest and most humble citizen beholds him- 
self, in idea, enriched with a portion of the fame and 
power acquired by the state, and considers himself as a 
gainer in the good fortune of the commonwealth. It thus 
follows, that, for a time at least, the love of the republic 
supersedes the plans which men entertain under other 
forms of government for their private advantage. 

It cannot be denied, that a state which can thus engross, 
for the public service, all the estimable and useful quali- 
ties of its citizens, presents an imposing spectacle, grand 
and unconquerable in the talents and capacities which it 
unites, and commanding at pleasure all tliat can be sacri- 
ficed in its cause, from the knowledge of the most pro- 
found philosopher, to the courage and life of its hardiest 
peasant". Yet, pushed to excess, this disinterested patri- 
otism must, far fj'om a virtue, be numbered in the rolls of 
vice. To pillage and oppress, to conquer and subdue the 
freedom and independence of other states, is not laudable, 
any more than to rob and slay for the rnaintenance of our 
own household ; though, to provide for our family by law- 
ful means, is an imperious duty. Rome, the mistress, or 
rather the tyrant, of the world, as it was then known to 
exist, grew to her excess of power by the injustice of her 
children, who held it as the pnnci])le of their being, that 
the empire should be extended as far as the habitable 
world permitted. 

That extensive yet compact country, now called France, 
and at an earlier period known by the name of Gallia, or 
Gaul, was one of the most important which was liable to 
the general encroachmc nts made by Rome on her neigh- 
bours. But the inhabitants being a very numerous, cour- 
ageous people, and much disposea to martial achieve- 
ments, were addicted, like most other nations, to leave 
their own country when they found their population in- 
crease, and hive off in military colonies, to establish new 
settlements elsewhere. They were, in this respect, neigh- 
bours wh'f stiuck terror even into the Romans themselves 



EXTENT AND INHABITANTS OF iJAUL. U 

and who, although often at war with that great republic, 
were not finally or eflectually subdued until the last days 
of Roman freedom. 

Gaul was understood to contain the whole country 
bounded by the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Rhine, the Med- 
iterranean Sea, and the Ocean, but considerable portions 
have been since detached from modern France. Such 
were the Cantons of Switzerland, with the German terri- 
tories on the Rhine. 

This portion of Europe, considerable not only from its 
extent, but from its climate and fertility, was chiefly, but 
not entirely, inhabited by the descendants of the Celtic 
race. These Celts, by whom Gaul was first peopled, ap- 
pear to have been the great family by which tiie habitable 
parts of Europe were first settled, though their descend- 
ants were afterwards conquered and overcome by the 
Gothic tribes — the second great colonists of the most 
civilized quarter of the globe. 

But two great portions of the Gallic Celts had admitted 
such modifications of language and manners, the one from 
the neighbouring Germans, the other from its connexion 
with the Spaniards, that the one people were called Bel- 
gee, the other Celtiberians, distinguishing them from the 
more genuine and unmixed Celts. That they were orig- 
inally all descended from the same race, is proved by the 
remains of their language, names, and customs. 

The manners of the Celts, and especially their religious 
institutions, were peculiar. They had one supreme Deity 
whom they called Esus, and they performed their rites 
of adoration in the depths of forests, or surrounded by 
huge circles of stones, rough, unhewn, and placed upright. 
Their chief priests were the Druids, a race set apart 
among them for conducting the public worship, as well 
as for preserving the knowledge of their laws and histo- 
ries. These were usually couched in poetry, which 
the Druids connnitted to memory, and recited at their 
periodical meetings and festivals. 

These Druids seem to have erected one of the most art- 
iiil and complete systems of prieslh<)od which the world 
1* 



10 THE BARDS. 

ever saw. The authority permitted to magistrates, kings, 
or princes, according to the constitution of the community, 
was always held to be sanctioned and delegated by the 
priests, and the government was always directed by their 
opinion. Tiiey had absolute influence over the gentry of 
the tribe, to whom they gave the epithet of riders, oi 
horse-men, the value of a warrior being always raised by 
the possession of a horse. Human sacrifices were fre- 
quently ©fFered up, under a mistaken impression, that we 
ought to present to the Deity what our race holds most 
dear, which undoubtedly is the principle of human life. 

The Bards were a class of men only inferior to the 
Druids in importance. Music and poetry were eagerly 
cultivated by the Gauls. These national poets sung 
hynms to their deity, and the praises of deceased war- 
riors ; and such was the affection of the people for these 
arts, that when, at a later period, it was the object to fix 
their attention upon the Scriptures, it was found the best 
method to translate the Sacred Writings into poetry, and 
set them to music. 

The government in Gaul was various among the differ- 
ent independent states, which, according as custom pre- 
vailed among them, were governed by kings, or by elec- 
tive magistrates. They were prom.pt and ready in battle ; 
a bold, fiery, warlike race, whose very women used to 
sustain the fight when the men were defeated, and who 
often slew themselves rather than surrender to an enemy. 

In appearance they were a handsome people ; bold in 
their manners, yet not untinctured with civility. They 
combed their hair forward, s,o as to give a wildness and 
ferocity to their aspect, wore tight trowseis and a loose 
mantle. Their chiefs wore a chain of gold, twisted out 
of flexible rods of that metal, such as children make out 
of bulrushes. IManlius, an ancient Roman, who killed a 
champion thus decorated, assumed from thence the addi- 
tional name of Torquatus, or him with the Chain. Be- 
sides this Torques, or Twist, as it was called, the Gauls 
woni bracelets, and ornaments round the ankle, and the 
weallhy had them made of the same precious metal, 



EMIGRATION OF THE GAULS 11 

The Gauls carried hospitality to strangers to the utinosj 
extent. They were profuse in eating, and still more in 
the use of strong liquors. The Romans accused them 
of being fickle, uncertain, and treacherous to their en- 
gagements. But they were probably not more so than 
the Romans themselves. 

We have mentioned that the nation of Gaul, or rather 
the infinity of small states into which it was divided, 
were so very populous, that, when their numbers seemed 
about to exceed the means of subsistence produced by 
their imperfect agriculture, great colonies of them depart- 
ed from their native country, with a view to provide 
themselves new settlements at the expense of some richer 
or more thinly peopled region. 

In this manner the Gauls, in olden times, were fre- 
quently troublesome neiglibours to the Romans, sur- 
mounting the Alps, and extending themselves to Lombar- 
dy, where they established strong colonies. They 
frequently invaded the southern parts of Italy, acquired 
lands there, and under their general, Brennus, burnt and 
pillaged the city of Rome itself, three hundred and eighty- 
five years before the Christian era ; they were, however, 
obliged to retreat from the citadel, or Capitol, and were 
finally defeated by the Dctator Camillus. The Gauls 
also rendered themselves formidable at a later period, by 
an invasion of Greece under a second general of the 
name of Brennus, who seized upon the treasures which 
had been stored up by the devotion of ages, in the cele- 
brated Temple of Apollo at Delphos. In these excur- 
sions, you must not conceive that the Gallic invaders 
acted as the forces of one united kingdom, but rather as 
an assembly of independent bands belonging to the vari- 
ous states, cities, and communities, into which the coun- 
try was subdivided, convoked for a time under a single 
chief, to whom the rest yielded the supreme authority, 
as to the most powerful or the most skilful in war. 

The rapine of these desultory hosts was the more 
dreaded and execrated, that from their religious principles 
turning on the worship of one only Deity., whom liiey 



12 THE GAUL9 FORMIDABLE TO ROME. 

adured in the depths of forests, and not in houses made 
with human hands, they were in the habit of dishonour- 
ing and destroying the temples and ahars of other nations. 

Nor was their conduct in battle less formidable than 
their principles were obnoxious. The Gauls were famous 
for tlieir bravery and love of war, which they carried so 
far, that they accounted it cowardice to make use of de- 
fensive armour, and rushed upon the spears of their ene- 
mies with undefended bosoms. This contempt of pre- 
caution was joined with other faults, which exposed them 
to great loss in regtdar actions with the experienced 
Romans ; yet, so dangerous were they, from their great 
numbers, and the fury of their assault, undisciplined as it 
was, that Cicero declares, that had not the passage of the 
Alps, by which alone they could reach Italy, been too 
difficult, and had not the mountains possessed too few 
means of sustenance for the passage of a Galhc army in 
its full numbers, that nation must have destroyed the city 
of Rome itself, even before its greatness was established. 
On this account, according to the opinion of Cicero, the 
Gauls, until the conquests of Julius Ctesar, continued to 
be the most obstinate and formidable enemies of the 
Romans. So generally were they considered as such, 
that in the celebrated conspiracy of Catihne, it was partly 
the intention of the plotters to have drawn from Gaul a 
considerable force for the execution of their purpose, 
which comprehended nothing less than the total destruc- 
tion of the Roman form of government. The Gauls, 
indeed, did not snatch at this bait ; certain ambassadors of 
the Allobroges, a people of Savoy in alliance with Rome, 
having informed the Consul Sanga of the proposals 
which had been made to them, materially assisted the 
discovery of the plot. Nevertheless, the risk of their 
future interference with other internal feuds of the same 
nature, was a secret reason for urging the subjugation of 
this powerful people. 

The Romans also possessed one small province in 
Gaul, in which they claimed a special and peculiar inter- 
est. It was more than a century befo: Christ's birth. 



DISSENSIONS OF THE GAULS. 13 

that the Consul Marclus Rex took one step towards the 
subjection of Gaul, by establishing a Roman colony 
between the Pyrenean chain of mountains and the city 
of Toulouse, where he founded the state called Narbonne. 
Ti)is colony was connected with Italy by a military road 
between the Alps and Pyrenees, and afforded, as you will 
presently see, most of the pretexts which tlie Republic 
brought forward for interferino; with the affairs of Gaul. 
The protection of the Allobroges, and other states in the 
neighbourhood of the province who had embraced the 
friendship of Rome, formed a perpetual apology for such 
hitermeddling. 

Thus the conquest of Gaul, though undoubtedly Caesar 
was encouraged in the attempt by the hope of adding to 
the power and renown of the Republic, and raising him- 
self in the opinion of his fellow-citisens, was, in a cer- 
tain degree, founded on state necessity. But, besides the 
ordinary reasons for which Rome took up arms, grounds 
of serious political envy and hatred impelled the conquer- 
ors of the world to make a war of subjection on a people 
who were always restless neighbours, and occasionally 
dangerous enemies. 

In Csesar, the Romans enjoyed the advantage of a 
general e/|ually wise and skilful, and who, considering his 
own ambitious views as inseparably connected with the 
conquest and final subjection of Gaul, neglected no means 
of accomplishing an object so much desired by his coun- 
trymen, and so essential to his own fortunes. 

The principal circumstance which afforded exercise for 
Julius Caesar's political sagacity, and a pretext at the 
same time for his military exploits, was the subdivision of 
this great country into a numberless variety of cities, gov- 
ernments, and states, trespassing almost always on each 
other, and engaged in endless and complicated feuds, 
which perpetually called for, or at least served to excuse, 
the interference of the Roman general, who, while he 
pretended to ad locate the rights, and protect the cause, 
of such Galhc nations as were the allies of Rome, failed 



14 INVASION OF GAUL. 

not to seize the opportunity of destroying Dne i;late by 
the arms of another, of which his Conimeataries, as ycu 
are ah-eady aware, afford a most cm'ious, as w^ell as' ele- 
gant narrative. 

A singular resolution on the part of the Helvetians, a 
Gallic tribe of great numbers and bravery, afforded the 
Romans the first opportunity and apology for armed in- 
terference in the affairs of Gaul. This nation vve]-e the 
more hostile to the Romans, that they had, at no distant 
period, defeated a considerable army of the Republic, 
forced them to lay down their arms, and only spared their 
lives on condition of their passing beneath the yoke, ac- 
counted at the time an acknowledgment of the most ab- 
ject surrender. One of Caesar's own relatives had shared 
in this degradation. 

The habit of emigration was tlien so general, that the 
spirit of local attachment, which is at this day one of the 
strongest principles of the modern Swiss, had no weight 
Avith the ancient Helvetians. With tlie same impatience 
which had formerly induced their Celtic forefathers to 
change their position from one place to another, the Hel- 
vetians determined to quit the barren mountains where 
they were born, and march forth in a body to estabhsh, 
by fair means or by force, new settlements in other re- 
gions. After some feuds among themselves, which ter- 
minated in the death of a great chief, named Orgetorix, 
with whom the design of emigration originated, the Hei- 
vetii set forth as a nation upon their adventurous expedi- 
tion. Turning their backs, as they designed, for ever, 
on their native valleys and mountains, they burnt their 
towns, tweh'e in number, with forty villages, and, with 
their wives and children, cattle and slaves, set out upon 
their extraordinary adventure. In our day, hardly ar.y 
thing could be accounted so strange as the resolution of 
a nation to leave its own familiar abode, and set forth on 
a vague pxpedition to settle in foreign parts But, at the 
period 1 mention, fifty-eight years before the birth of our 
Saviour, this wandering people had little of what we now 
call love of their native land, and willingly undertook the 



WARS AMONG TUIu GALLIC TRIBES. 15 

labour and lisk of such a journey, in the hardy confidence, 
that they would easily find a country more pleasant and 
fertile than their own barren regions^ and that they could 
scarcely be obliged to encounter, in defence of it, a na- 
tion of more bravery and warlike temper than they were 
conscious of bringing along with them. 

An incursion so bold as that which the Helvetians pro- 
posed, the Romans had a fair pretence for resisting ; the 
more, as the Helvetians proposed to march into Gaul 
itself through the territory of the Allobroges, whom we 
have already mentioned as allies of the Romans, and near 
neighbours to the Roman province, and of course under 
the protection of the Repubhc. 

At this extraordinary intelligence, Csesar, who had been 
lately appointed Prajtor, set off with the utmost speed 
froni Rome, to look after the pressing affairs of the Gal- 
lic province which had been committed to his charge. 
Here he defended the frontiers of the Allobroges by 
raising a long wall, fianked with towers, hastily erected, 
indeed, but with such judgment, that the Helvetians did 
not venture to attack it. 

The expatriated nation being obliged to change their 
line of march, had only one road remaining, which led 
into Gaul through the territory of the Sequani, now 
called Burgundy. This road, running among cliffs and 
torrents, was judged totally inaccessible without the con- 
sent of the Sequani themselves ; but by the intercession 
of Dumnorix, a chief of the jEduans, a people whose terri- 
tory lay near Autun, the Helvetians obtained permission 
to pass through the defiles of the Burgundians unop- 
posed, so that they might afterwards march in a direction 
whicli should enable them to approach the ancient Tolo- 
satium, now Toulouse. By this movement the Roman 
province was highly endangered. The j3ilduans, friends, 
if not allies of the Romans, were mortal enemies of the Se- 
quani, and besought assistance from Cassar against the 
Stream of Helvetians, who were thus poured into their 
territory. Cajsar hastened the motions of his army, for 
the purpose of interceptmg the proposed march of the 



16 WARS AMONG THE GALLIC TRIBES. 

Helvetians, and preventing the threatened devastation of 
Gaul. So rapid were his movements, that finding the 
rear of their army, consisting of one-fourth of the whole, 
still encamped on the eastern banks of the Arar, or Saone, 
though the other three-fourths had passed the river, he 
fell upon the rearmost division, thus separated from their 
main body, surpi'ised and cut them to pieces, astonishing 
the invaders not less with this unexpected blow, than 
with the activity with which he constructed, in a single 
day, a bridge to pass his army across the Arar, although 
the task had occupied the barbarians twenty days. After 
he had crossed the river, Cajsar detected the treachery 
of Dumnorix, but forgave it, in consideration of the 
fidelity to the Romans exhibited by his brother Divitiacus. 
He then engaged in a decisive battle with the main body, 
of the f Helvetians, whom, after a severe contest, he 
defeated with much slaughter. The Helvetians, sub- 
mitted to tlie conqueror, and by Csesar's order re- 
turned to their ancient possessions, excepting only one 
tribe, called the Boii, who, at the intercession of the 
JSdui, were permitted by that tribe to settle in the 
territory of Autun, their junction being considered as a 
decided advantage. 

Juli'is Caesar having thus established the terror of his 
name by the conquest, and almost the annihilation of the 
warlike Helvetians, was soon called to undertake a war, 
which, according to the belief of the Gauls, brought him 
in contact with adversaries still more formidable. Of 
this he was informed in a private council held by the 
Jildui. They acquainted him, that, according to the 
custom of the Gauls, who were constantly divided 
among themselves, a long feud had existed between them 
(the Ji^duans) on one hand, and on the other the Sequani, 
already frequently mentioned, as well as another power- 
ful tribe, called the Arverni, a people situated on the 
Loire, and who were united w^ith the Sequani against the 
^dui. Finding that their combined strength was unable 
to conquer the jEdui, these tribes agreed to call to tiieii 
Bssistance the warlike German nations which inhabited 



CHARACTER OF THE GOTHIC TRIBES. 11 

the opposite side of the Rhine, where that river bounded 
the country of the Gauls. 

I must here briefly remind you, that though a part ol 
Germany had been originally settled by the Celtic tribes, 
yet the successors of these first colonists had been at a 
subsequent period subdued, or banished, by a people so 
diiferent in manners, language, religion, and even in form 
and countenance, as to present in their general appear- 
ance all the qualities of a different race. This great and 
most important division of mankind, finally constituted 
the grand source from which the modern nations of Eu- 
rope have derived their principal materials of population, 
and the peculiarities of their several governments. They 
were generally termed Goths, having among themselves 
a great variety of distinctive names. They spoke anoth- 
er language, differing from and opposed to that of the 
Celts, insomuch that some wTiters have held them alto- 
gether different. They are found, however, by more 
accurate inquirers, so far connected as to warrant their 
being referred to a common source, at a period probably 
previous to the remarkable event described in Scripture 
as the Confusion of tongues. The Goths did not follow 
the religion of the Celtic tribes, nor were they acquainted 
with the order of the Druids, neither did they acknowl- 
edge the existence or worship of Esus, the one and only 
deity of the Gauls. They worshipped the sun and the 
moon, to which they added several imaginary deities. 
They were much attached to the arts of divination, and 
as these were chiefly used by the matrons of the tribe, 
the females received, from this cause, as well as others 
presently to be mentioned, a degree of honour seldom 
paid to them by the males of barbarous tribes ; who gen- 
erally devolve on their women all labour save those of 
hunting and war. 

This race of Goths possessed some qualities, which, in 
the eyes of barbarians, are of high value. They were 
large-limbed, tall, and of great personal strength, having 
generally red hair and blue eyes. Their chiefs only 

941 



IS GOTHIC TRIBES OF GERMANY. 

enjoyed command during the time of war, and a species 
of princes, called kings by the Romans, were elected as 
lijeir judges during peace; each of these magistrates had 
a council of one hundred persons, supported by the pub- 
lic. Their women, who held a high rank amongst them, 
were remarkable for their chaste and honourable charac- 
ter ; and as no one was allowed to marry until he wa? 
onc-and-twenty at least, their young men looked forward 
with anxiety and hope to a jieriod when they should un- 
dertake the duties and dignities of men, and in the mean- 
while practised those habits of patient restraint and sub- 
dued, passions, which made them fit for the duties of 
manhood, when the period should arrive that they were 
permitted to assume the situation of a husband and a 
father. The women, on their part, finding themselves 
the universal objects of respect and attention, were anx- 
ious to assume a higher and more lofty character in soci- 
ety, than is usually assigned to females in the savage 
state. They partook in the toils and dangers of war, 
accompanied their husbands in their expeditions, and 
when the battle was irretrievably lost, they often, by 
slaying themselves and their children, gave dreadful ex- 
amples that they preferred deatli to slavery. 

The character of these Gothic tribes liad something 
superior even to that of the Gauls ; braver they could 
hardly be, but in war they were more steady, more per- 
severing, could better endure the fatigues of a long and 
doubtful fight ; and if inferior to the Gauls and other 
Celtic nations in the fury of a headlong onset, they pos- 
sessed powers of keeping their ground, and rallying 
which rendered the event of the day doubtful, even after 
a long struggle. We can dimly perceive, by tlie history 
of ancient times, that the approach of these Goths from 
the east gradually overpowered and subdued the Celtic 
colonies who occupied Germany ; some penetrating 
northwards into Scandinavia, while others rolled their 
emigration rather to the south and east, till their course 
was checked by the mountainous regions of Switzerland 
and the Tyrol, and by the broad course of the Rhine 



c;esak defeats ariovistus. 19 

It followed, as a matter of course, that the fair re^-ions 
of Gaul beyond this great river should become objects 
of covetousness to the Germans, whose crops were raised 
with difiiculty, and who were as much strangers to wine 
as they wei-e enamoured with the occasional use of it. 
It is not tlierefore wonderful, that the Germans, under the 
command of a powerful and haughty chief, named Ario- 
visius, shoidd have willingly accepted the invitation of 
the Arverni and Sequani, to cross the Rhine, as 1 have 
told you, to support them against the ^dui ; nor was it 
surprising that Cajsar, foreseeing the danger of permit- 
ting these martial people to establish settlements beyond 
the great river which had hitherto been their barrier, 
willingly inrpiired into the nature of their proceeding, 
with the purpose of putting a stop to it. He soon learned 
that Ariovistus and the Germ s had already taken from 
the Sequani one third of their territory, and occupied 
the lands with his people, while he demanded a third 
more for the acconmiodaiion of reinforcements, which 
were about to join him from Germany. 

^A'lien Cicsar applied to Ariovistus to know why he as- 
saulted and injured the allies of the Roman people, the 
German |)rince returned him the contemptuous answer, 
that he was yet to learn what pretence Cssar or the Ro- 
mans could have for interfering with his operations in 
Gaul. The liomans marched against this new enemy ; 
but the Gauls raised such exaggerated reports concern- 
ing the strength and ferocity of the Germans, that they 
spread a sort of panic even among the legionary troops 
themselves. C;esar, by his address and eloquence, put a 
stop to this mutiny of the troops. He declared that he 
himself woidd proceed on the expedition, though only 
the Tenth LcLnon should attend him. This select body 
of men wcve flattered by the praise and confidence of 
their general, while the rest called out to be led against 
the Germans. 

Caesar then marched against Ariovistus, and alter some 
mauiTuvres, forced the German prince to come to an ac- 
tion, in which he routed his whole army with much 



20 END OF Cesar's wars in gauij. 

slaughter, eighty thousand Germans falling, and Ariovia 
tus himself escaping with great difficulty across the 
Rliine. 

By this decisive victory over the Germans, to whom 
the Gauls yielded the superiority in valour, the reputation 
of the Roman general was so highly raised, that it ena- 
bled him to assume the situation most convenient for re- 
ducing the whole country to obedience, which was the 
ultimate purpose to which he directed his schemes and 
interest. He became, or constituted himself, judge in 
the numerous quarrels which took place amid so many 
independent states. His decisions encouraged wars 
amongst them, which he so managed that the victory 
always fell to the side on which the Roman eagles were 
ranked. The Belgae, a people of Gaul, who occupied 
modern Flanders, were the first to see in this supremacy 
of the Roman general, the future seeds of absolute sub- 
jugation. This people, residing nearest to the Germans, 
and probably being rather of German than Gallic descent, 
were remarkable above the proper Gauls for their cour- 
age and skill in war. Yet their alliance against the Ro- 
mans was only the means of weakening their country by 
repeated invasions, and very bloody defeats, which in- 
creased the fame of Caesar's arms, and rendered the othei 
nations careful how they provoked a contest with a peo- 
ple whose attacks the most powerful nations of Gaul had 
proved unequal to sustain. 

But although it was easy for Cassar to maintain the of- 
fice of a Governor of Gaul for a short time, yet the tem- 
per of that people, equally fierce and fickle, was scarcely 
subdued, or the country, as a Roman would have said, 
half pacified, before they were again forming plans and 
alliances together for the purpose of throwing off the 
yoke of Rome. Ten years of the active life of Caesar 
were spent in constant labour to reduce Gaul to the con- 
dition of a Roman province, but for a long time with very 
little success ; for no sooner did there appear a show ol 
tranquillity, than it became the signal of wider combina- 
tions agamst the foreigners than had taken place before. 



FND OF CJESAr's WARS IN GAUL. 21 

It was in vain that Caesar laid aside the cleniency which 
he practised, both from policy, and as most a^a-eeable to 
his own temper. It was in vain, that in one action the 
river Aisne was so filled up and gorged with the dead 
bodies of the Gauls, that the corpses served as a bridge 
to their comrades who escaped from the slaughter. The 
victory only led to a more terrible obstinate struggle with 
the Nervii and other Belgic clans. Fifty thousand of a 
nation called Aduatici were sold at once for slaves. All 
these, and other severities, did not prevent a more pow- 
erful and almost universal insurrection against the Ro- 
mans, in which the Mdin themselves, the constant friends 
of Rome, wearied out by exactions of various kinds, did 
not refuse to join. The chief of the league, whose 
name was Vercingetorix, after many brave exploits, wj^s 
at length made prisoner, and Cassar remained finally tri- 
umphant. 

The wars of Gaul, of which this is a very hasty and 
imperfect review, terminated by the storming of a very 
strong fortress, called Uxellodunum, where Csesar cruelly 
commanded the right hands of all the garrison who were 
fit to bear arms to be struck ofF. 

The nature of the labours undergone by Caesar will 
best appear from Plutarch's catalogue of his victories. 
" In less than ten years, during the Gallic war," says that 
biographer, " Caisar took more than eighty cities by storm, 
subdued three hundred states or communities, and fought 
upon different occasions with no less than thirteen mil- 
lions of men, one million of whom had fallen into captivity, 
and another had been taken captive and driven into slave- 
ry." The marvel in this report will be greatly dimin- 
ished, if the reader recollects that Cassar seldom encoun- 
tered one nation of Gauls without the aid of auxiliaries, 
money, and provisions from the others with whom he was 
in alliance at the time ; and thus, though it was the tal- 
ents of the Roman general which conducted the cam- 
paign, yet, considering the actual character of the soldiers 
engaged, Gaul was principally overcome by the disunion 
of he'^ own native forces. 



22 SUBJECT OF THE NEXT CHAPTER. 

In the 49lh year before the Christian era, Caesar re* 
turned to Rome to exercise aj^ainsl the liberties of his own 
counirynien, those troops, and that disci[)line, which had 
been so admirably formed during ten years' wars against 
the Gauls. In this manner, Providence makes our own 
crimes the means of bringing on f)ur punishnient. The 
unjust ambition of the Romans was the proximate cause 
ol their own loss of freedom. The effects produced upon 
Gaul by the con(juesl of the Romans, will form the sub- 
ject o! the next chapter, which will bring us down to the 
time when the reviving free spirit of Europe began to 
burst asunder, and cast from her the fetters of Rome ; or 
rather, when Rome herself, who had deprived so many 
nations of their freedom, and who had so absolutely lost her 
own, found she had at the same time lost her hardihood, 
lier discipline, and her ])oweis of conHict, and lay expos- 
ed at the niercy of her own armies, like the fabl.ed liun- 
t=!r to the attack of his own houads. 



VOLlCy OF THK ROMANS- 23 



CHAPTER II. 

Policy of the Romans towards the Conquered Tribes — 
Human Sacrifice Forbidden — Polytheism Introduced 
— Human Victims Secretly Sacrificed by the Druids 
— Plans of Insurrection agitated at these Solemnities 
— Combination among the Gallic Provinces against 
Rome — Expedition of Drusus — Insurrection of Vin- 
dex in JVero^s time — lis Suppression — Persecution oj 
Christians in Gaul in the reign of Severus — Origin 
of the Franks — Inroads of the Franks into the Ro- 
man Provinces in the time of Posthumiis and Gallif- 
nus — The Jill emanni Defeated, and Peace for a time 
Restored to Gavl, by Julian the Apostate — Radagai- 
sus, King of the Goths, invades Italy, is taktn Cap- 
tive xvith part of his Army — The rest of his Forces 
Invade and Ravage Gaul. 

When Rome seized upon the dominions of an inde- 
pendent state, she usually prevailed on the suffering par- 
ty to rest satisfied with some mess of pottage, like Esau 
in the Scriptures, in place of what may be justly termed 
the most precious birthright of humanity, excepting that 
spiritual benediction which the eltiest born of Jacob so 
rashly exchanged for a dish of food. 

I-iome professed to give to the conquered state?; her pro- 
tection, her acknowledgment of the authority of their 
magistrates, with perhaps a golden diadem, a curule cliair 
of ivory, or some other emblem of more show than use ; 
the true sense of which toys iinplied, that lue laws, ordi- 
nances, and authorities of th.e once free country could not 
now be said to exist, unless in so far as they were acknowl- 
edged by Rome. The various cities, states, or provinces 
throughout Gaul, were all subjected to Rome ; but the 
servile connexion they bore to her varied according to the 
cin umstances of surrend'er. Some cities or common 



24 HUMAN SACRIFICE FORBIDDEN. 

wealths were permitted to retain the name of freedom ; 
others were termed confederates of the Roman -»eople ; 
while others were reduced to the condition of a province, 
to which a Roman governor was appointed, with full 
power over the property and persons of the unhappy na- 
tives. But in all those cases, whether the subju.gated 
Gauls were mocked with the name of freemen or confed- 
erates, or called in plain terms subjects, the Roman le- 
gions alike occupied their strongholds. A capitation tax 
was levied for the benefit of the Republic, and the chil- 
dren of the soil, forcibly arrayed as soldiers, were made 
to serve in different countries, so that, having lost their 
own freedom, they might be used as tools to deprive other 
nations of theirs. 

But the vain and imaginary distinctions, comprehended 
in these various orders of subjugation, were soon entirely 
melted down, and merged into sixteen grand divisions, 
called provinces, which, it is believed, was an arrange- 
ment made under the reign of Augustus ; for so short a 
time were the Romans disposed to abide by the veil of 
decency with which they themselves had in the com- 
mencement thought it necessary to disguise their conquest. 

What, then, you may be tempted to ask, did the con- 
quered Gauls obtain in exchange for the right of manag- 
ing their own affairs, which the Romans had wrested from 
them ? In reply, it cannot be denied that the coin in 
which the Republic of Rome paid for her aggressions was 
not all false money. It was her boast to extend some de- 
gree of civilization among the prostrated vassals of her 
empire, and to impress on them a milder species of spir- 
itual liies than that which had animated them in their 
days of savage freedom. With this view, the abominable 
mode of worship by human sacrifice was forbidden 
throughout the Gallic states, so soon as they had bent the 
knee to Rome. In abolishing this wretched and barba- 
rous custom, whatever might be the intention of the Ro- 
mans, there can be no doubt that the morals of the peo- 
ple were proportionally amended. Nor, when it is con- 
sidered what a species of priestcraft was exercised by the 



POLYrHEISM INTRODUCED. 25 

Druids, and bow much they strove to keep their votaries 
in ignorance in order to increase tlieir oun power, can 
we blame the means by wliich the Romans endeavoured 
to diminish that power, ahhough the actual cause of their 
doing so was the reiterated efforts of this peculiar priest- 
hood to inflame their countrymen against the yoke of the 
conquerors. 

But if the injunctions of Rome were highly laudable in 
prohibiting the practice of human sacrifices, and were in 
a great measure salutary, as they tried to loosen the fet- 
ters which an ambitious priesthood had fixed on the peo- 
ple, other innovations which they introduced upon the 
Gallic creed were of a different nature, and tended to 
deprive them of their primitive worship, which, although 
erroneous, was founded upon the grand sytem of acknowl- 
edging one sole divinity. -The Druids resisted these in- 
novations at first with tolerable success, for it is said that 
no temples were built in Gaul until the time of Tiberius, 
when a general tax, or census, over the whole country, 
was proposed at Rome, and only abandoned on the chiefs 
of Gaul consenting to erect a temple to the memory of 
Ca3sar, and for the adoration of Augustus. Thus, as as- 
sociates in the throne of the single deity, Esus, in whom, 
no doubt, they recognised, though imperfectly, the unity 
and power of the Creator of all things, were placed 
that very Julius Caesar, who had been the invader and 
tyrant of their own country, and that Augustus himself, 
the cruelties of whose early life were combined with the 
brutal pollutions of his later years. 

Polytheism, or a variety of deities, being thus intro- 
duced into Gaul, that belief took root and throve among 
that people to a most wonderful degree. The rich ex- 
hausted themselves in building temples, some to the gods 
recognised by the Romans, but fancifully distinguished 
by other epithets and attributes ; and others to imaginary 
deities, whom they had sanctified according to their own 
wild fancy. Another melancholy part attending this per- 
version to the grossest errors of paganism, w^s, thai 
2 VOL. I. 4th Ser. 



2(J HUMAN SACRIFICE FORBIDDEN. 

wliilst tlie Gauls imbibed all the superstitions oi" ido atrj 
and polytheism, and renounced the approach which they 
had made to the grand truth, that the world was created 
and governed by one great being, they retained at the 
same time their custom of human sacrifice. 

These infernal rites, the worst part of the original wor- 
ship of the Druidical system, the Gauls continued to prac- 
tise in secret, in defiance of the edicts of the Emperors 
for abolishing it, thus perversely retaining what was in- 
human and cruel in their original system, and adopting 
from that of their victors the whole childish puerilities of 
a superstition wiiich the Romans had been borrowing for 
so many centuries fi-on"! every country, whenever any thing 
could be found to interweave into their own creed. But 
it must not be supposed that the human victims of the 
Druidical system were, after the conquest of Gaul, -exe- 
cuted in the temples which they had erected after the 
fashion of the Romans. It would appear that animals 
alone were sacrificed within these new places of worship ; 
nor is it natural to believe that the Gauls should trangress 
the edict of the conquerors, under the eye of their gar- 
risons, or governors. The people, who, looking back to 
the days of their freedom, desired to worship as they had 
formerly worshipped, met by appointment in some dark 
recess of unfrequented "woods, under the direction of the 
Druids, who resumed, at such secret conclaves, the power 
which they were no longer permitted to exercise in pub- 
lic. Bearing on their head the coronet of oak leaves, 
whicli they esteemed sacred — clad in white robes, as was 
their custom, the ancient priests then met the people in 
the deep forest, to adore in secrecy and silence, accord- 
ing to the bloody rites of their forefathers. The victim 
who fell under the axe of the sacrificing pontiff', or who, 
sometimas bound to a tree, was shot to death with arrows, 
was usually a criminal who had desi^rved death, or some 
individual of small account, who had been kidnapped and 
reserved for this inhuman purpose. A other times, it 
was a voluntary victim, who offered himself as an expia' 
lory offering for the sins of the people, like the scape- 



HUMAN SACRIFICK. "t 

goat of the Israelites. When an individual could be 
ivrciight up to such a point of insane ])atii«tism, the 
Druids announced to him, as his reward, eternal happiness 
in the society of tlie gods, to propitiate whom, he con- 
sented to suffer death ; and the people, if cii'cumstances 
permitted, took care that he whose sacrifice was to be th.e 
pi'ice of the public prosperity, should, for some time be- 
fore his death, taste of as many of the pleasures of tliis 
life as they had the means of procuring him. His death 
then took place by the hand of the consecrated Druids. 
They observed every circumstance of his mortal agony : 
the manner in which he fell ; the course of his blood down 
the rugged fi'ont of the sacred stone : and from these cir- 
cumstances affected to divine how far the deity was pro- 
pitious to their designs. It may be well believed that, at 
these secret meetings, the occasional return of the Gauls 
to the barbarous rites of their Celtic ancestors, the bards 
were also called in to assist, by music and melody, the im- 
pression which was made on the assistants by the elo- 
quence and mystic predictions of the priests. The themes 
naturally chosen were the ancient glory of Gaul and her 
inhabitants, who, having been long the terror of distant 
countries, were now found unable to protect their own 
against the Romans. The feelings of the hearers, a na- 
tion readily excited, passionately fond of fame, their pre- 
judices easily acted upon by the gloomy fanaticism of their 
priests, and their quick fierce tempers, resentful of the 
injuries received from the Romans, became much agitated 
by such solemnities, and it was not to be wondered at 
that general schemes of revolt were laid or extended at 
such meetings. 

Besides these internal plans of insurrection against the 
foreign yoke, the vicinity of the free Germans, and their 
incursions and conquests upon the Gallic territory, were 
another vexation which instigated the inhabitants to re- 
volt. The Gauls had a right to complain, that while the 
Romans assumed the title of their masters^ and drained 
the provinces of the youth with whom they could have 



iK3 EXPEDITION OF DEUSUS. 

maintained their own defence, they left them e rposeJ tn 
the inroads of a barbarous and formidable enemy. 

These dissensions produced very general convulsions 
througiiout Gaul, in the year 741, after the foundation of 
Rome. The various states and principalities of tlje whole 
sixteen subdivisions or provinces, connnunicated and com- 
bined together. Drusus, who was sent by the emperor 
to still these commotions, had art and authority sufficient 
to convoke all the Gallic chiefs and principal magistruies 
at Lyons, under pretence of dedicating the temple to 
Augustus, which we have already noticed. — Here, by 
promises and actual benefits, he managed to disconcert 
the plot of the disaffected. And as he proceeded across 
the Rhine, and repulsed the Germans, the time when the 
Gauls might have at least shaken off the Roman yoke 
passed away in inactivity. 

In the year of the Christian era 78, during the reign of 
the tyrant Nero, an opportunity occurred, when tlie Gauls, 
by the rise of an enterprising leader, were very near ac- 
complishing their often meditated project of successful 
insurrection. The leader, according to Dion Cassius, 
named Caius Julius Vindex, was the son of a Romanized 
Gaul, whose father had become a Roman senator. He 
was descended from the line of one of the ancient kings 
of Aquitaine, endowed with great strength of body, and 
wisdom ; above all, an accomplished soldier. 

Availing himself of the cruel exactions with which the 
tyrant then oppressed Gaul, Vindex, who was governor 
of Celtic Gaul, ascended the tribunal, and in an animated 
oration denounced the vices of Nero, his cruelties, his in- 
famies, the death of his mother by his orders, and the 
crimes which to this day cling to his memory, as one of 
the most depraved monsters that ever existed, tie called 
upon his hearers, not to rise in insurrection against the 
Roman empire, but to combine for the more limited pur- 
pose of removing Nero from the government. The peo- 
ple, being already greatly exasperated, took arms at this 
exhortation, and Vindex was soon at the head of a tundred 
thousand men. It is said that Nero ^vas lather pleased 



INSURRECTION AND DEATH OF VINJEX. 29 

Uiati alarmed by this formidable insurrection, conceiving 
it would afford his treasury great weaUh from the forfeit- 
ed estates of the insurgents. He placed a reward of two 
hundred and fifty myriads of drachms upon the head of 
Vindex. When this was told to the daring leader, he re- 
plied, " To whomsoever will deliver to me the head of 
Nero, I will be contented to resign my own life in return, 
for having destroyed so great an enemy of the human 
race." But of all Vindex's reproaches, Nero was most 
moved by that in which the Gallic insurgent called him a 
wretched fiddler. Leaving the topic of his mother's 
death, and similar horrors, he complained bitterly to the 
Roman people of the aspersions thrown out against his 
taste and power as a musical performer ; and, that the Ro- 
mans might judge how little they were deserved, he in- 
troduced a voluntary or two into the oration which he 
delivered on that occasion. 

Meantime, Virgilius Rufus, a Roman general who com- 
manded on the banks of the Rhine, advanced against 
Vindex. It was thought the two commanders would ha\e 
come to an understanding ; but the armies approaching 
each other, skirmishes ensued, which led to a general ac- 
tion, in which Vindex was defeated, with the loss of twen- 
ty thousand men. Hurried on by a species of despair, 
of which the ancient Romans were but too susceptible, 
the defeated general killed himself just before the time 
of Nero's dethronement and death. 

After the death of Vindex, there is little worthy of no- 
tice in the history of Gaul, except that, like other ])ro- 
vinces of the empire, it suffered the most severe and ty- 
rannical exactions at the hands of the Roman governors : 
and that the generals who commanded there often as- 
sumed the purple, and gave place, by their ambition, to 
wars, of which Gaul became the scene. The Gauls were, 
for example, among the first to recognise as ernpeior the 
celebrated Scptimius Severus, who, in beginning his career 
nf ambition, was governor of the province of Lyons. The 
last scene of the civil wars which completed the elevation 



so ORIGIN OF THE FRANAS. 

of Severus to tlie imperial throne, was the defeat of his 
rival Albinus, at a place called Timurieum, about twenty 
leagues from Lyons. A severe, but local persecu'tion of 
the Christians disturbed Gaul under the reign of this able 
emperor, who was indignant at a Christian soldier v.iio 
refused to wear a crown or coronet, delivered to bin) as 
a donation, agreeably to the command of bis general, but 
which a religious dread of committing idolatry- proliibited 
hirn from making use of. St. Irenaeus, the bishop of 
Lyons, fell, among other martyrs, about the year of 
God 202. 

As the Roman empire began now to totter towards its 
fall, different barbarous nations, whom by force of arms 
she had first compelled to retire from her boundaries, be- 
gan to thicken around her, in some instances with the pur- 
pose of mere ravage and plunder, in others, with the more 
resolved intent of making conquests and settlements with- 
in the imperial territory. Tin-ee of the nations or coalitions 
of tribes, who had regarded Gaul as their natural conquest, 
require to be distinguished from each other. The most 
remarkable, from their becoming the corner stone of the 
great monarchy to which they afforded a name, are the 
Franks, the undoubted founders of the present kingdom 
of France. From whence the people were derived, 
whose memory has been preserved by such distinction, 
has been the subject of much discussion. 

In olden times, a fanciful origin was imagined for the 
Franks, which England had also adopted, namely, that 
they claimed their descent from the Trojans of classical 
antiquity. At a later period, Pannonia and Gaul were 
fixed upon as the native country of the Franks. But a 
more probable opinion has gained ground in later days, 
which has been generally recomn^ended by its simplicity. 
Tiie Germans, the most formidable enemies of Rome since 
the days of Ccesar, repeatedly defeated by the discipline 
of tlie Romans, but always resisting them, and often vic- 
torious in their turn, are supposed, about the middle of 
the third century, to have formed a new associatiop OT 
alliance among their eastern tribes, for the purposp of 



THE ALLEMANNI. 



31 



mutual defence, to which, in token of their love of hber 
ly, and their resolution to maintain it, they gave the namo 
of Franks, or Freemen, though each tribe was individu- 
ally known from the others by its own name. In this 
confederacy, they at first acknowledged no supreme head, 
nor was authority assumed by any one state over the 
otiiers. The purest equality, and the plan of acting for 
each other's mutual support, seem to have been at once 
the object and tlie conditions of the confederacy. This 
formidable people commenced a set of furious incursions 
upon Gaul, which the Romans, under Gallienus and 
Posthumus, endeavoured to repel, in a long series of 
bloody wars, and in which both parties unquestionably 
sustained great losses. The province itself suffered 
greatly from the military operations, being necessarily 
exposed to the ravages of both parties, wheth.er Romany 
or Franks. Indeed, notwithstanding the opposition of 
Gallienus and Posthumus, the south-eastern provinces 
of Gaul were so cruelly ravaged, that they afforded lit- 
tle spoil to the invaders ; so that latterly the Franks only 
used them as a road to the Pyrenees, and from thence 
into Spain, which, unharasseu as yet by similar invasions, 
contained a spoil far more tempting. They even seized 
upon vessels, and crossed to Africa, wdiere tliey also found 
provinces plentiful of spoil, and colonies little acquainted 
with the art of war. 

The Franks, who thus laid waste by rapid excursions 
the provinces of the Roman empire, had yet a country 
which they called their own, w'here they resided, wlicn 
they chose for a time to abide at rest. To their original 
settlements on the eastern or German side of the Rhine 
they had added a considerable tract, called at that time 
Toxandria, which appears to have comprehended great 
part of the present province of Brabant, their habitations 
being in woods and morasses, or on the adjacent banks of 
lakes and rivers, as they could best surround them with 
rude fortifications, formed out of the trunks of trees. 

The Allemanni were another and separate association, 
resenibling that of the Franks, and instituted ipon simi 



32 JULIAN THE APOSTATE. 

lar principles. The Suevi formed the strength of this 
confederation ; a tribe so much esteemed for courage by 
the neighbouring nations, that the Germans told Caesar 
even the immortal gods could scarcely match them in 
fight. This brave people comprehended, besides, so many 
members, that they assumed the title of Allemanni, or 
All-men, to mark the comprehensive principle of general 
union on which their league rested. Besides making dis- 
tant and extensive excursions, one of which brought 
ihem almost to the city of Rome itself, which was in 
great danger of falling into their hands, they, like the 
Franks, had a fixed abode. This second confederacy 
of the German tribes had their settlements on the east- 
ern banks of the Upper Rhine ; and their vicinity was 
not less formidable to Gaul than that of the Franks, 

About the year 357, Julian, who, from his renouncing 
the Christian religion, obtained the hateful epithet of the 
Apostate, was sent, with very insufficient forces, to 
rescue Gaul from the ravages of the barbarians, and dis- 
charged his duty with unexpected success. He defeated 
the Allemanni in the battle of Strasburg, and after obtain- 
ing this victory, he crossed the Rhine three times, and 
upon each occasion took forts, won battles, or gained 
other successes ; so that Gaul was for a time relieved from 
the incursions of these barbarous enemies, and with the 
assistance of Julian, its towns were rebuilt, and its. pros- 
perity re-established. 

The historian Gibbon, who, from his enmity to the 
Christian religion, shows a great desire to make a hero 
out of Julian, has not, it is true, said more than enough in 
praise of his talents. But though certainly a prince of 
lively parts, and great personal activity, we cannot attrib' 
ute soundness of understanding to the man of education, 
who should prefer the mysterious jargon of Plato's phi- 
losophy, and the coarse polytheism of the heathen reli- 
gion, to the pure simplicity of the Gospel. 

The provinces of Gaul shared for some time the advan- 
tages procured by the active talents of Julian ; and it 
would seem, that although the Franks were celebraleH 



RADAGAJSUS INVADES ITALY. 33 

for a rude and fickle temper, yet for a period of year;? 
they remained faithful to Rome; a fidelity which was 
probably purchased by occasional subsidies. They even 
resisted the strong temptation of an opportunity to break 
their alliance with the Romans, in the great invasion of 
Rhodagast, or Radagaisus, which may be said in its event 
altogether to have destroyed the very slight remains of 
the Roman empire, excepting in Italy itself. This barba- 
rian prince had collected an immense army from the 
shores of the Baltic sea, in which so many were sprung 
of pure Gothic descent, that the name of King of the 
Goths was generally, though inaccurately, given to their 
conmiander. The Vandals, the Suevi, the Burgundians, 
jomed his standard. But though the Western Emperor 
Honorius was a timid and inefiicient prince, his minister, 
Stilicho, a man of ambition, warlike skill, and political 
talent, with an army, the last apparently which he could 
raise, came upon the King of the Goths while he was 
engaged in the siege of Florence, and by a hasty circuin- 
vallation, surrounded the besiegers, who, in their turn 
were besieged, reduced to a starving condition, and 
obliged to surrender. 

But though Radagaisus and his host were made cap- 
tive, yet two-thirds of his original forces, amounting to 
one hundred thousand men, were still in arms in the 
north of Italy. It is said that Stilicho insinuated to them 
the advice to attack Gaul, as perhaps the only means b}' 
which he could relieve Italy of such unwelcome guests. 
They took the hint accordingly, and, ascending the Alps 
at different points, and approaching the Rhine on various 
quarters, appeared as invaders on the frontiers of Gaul. 
• In this exploit, those who attacked Gaul from the Ujiper 
Rhine experienced neither assistance nor op])Osition from 
the Allemanni. But the Vandals, whose great numbers 
had enabled, or perhaps obliged, them to separate from 
the barbaric host, approached the territories occu])ied by 
the Franks, on the lower part of the river. The Franks, 
faithful to their engagements with the Romans, advanced 
?n arras to oppo^^e them and in the battle which ensued 
843 



34 SUCCESSIVE TRIBLS OF BARBARIANS, 

twenty thousand Vandals were slain. But the arrival of 
the Alani, another nation of barbarians, who came up 
during the coTifltct, compelled tlie Franks to retreat, and 
to desist from the defence of the river, to which their 
numbers were unequal. Without further opposition then, 
the roving barbarians, consisting of several tribes, the re- 
mains of thearmy of Radagaisus, crossed the Rhine, which 
was then frozen, and carried fire and sword into "the rich 
country, which had in a few years recovered from the 
devastations of the Franks and Allemanni, and reduced 
It again to a smoking desert, never more to assume the 
name of a civilized province of Rome, but to remain the 
theatre in which contending races of barbarians were to 
exercise themselves against each other in bloody conflict 
This invasion of Gaul took place in 407. 



CHAPTER III. 

Successive Tribes of Barbarians by whom Europe was 
overrun — the Celts its Original Settlers — Invasions 
of the Goths, Sarmatians, and Alani — Irruption of 
the Huns, who settle in the Eastern parts of Germany, 
— Wars of Attila with the Eastern Empire — League 
between JEtius, the Roman Patrician, and Theodoric, 
King of the Goths — Attila invades Gaul, and besic^res 
Orleans — ^tius and Theodoric advance against him," 
and defeat his Army in the Battle of Chalons — the 

■ Victors suffer the Defeated. Army to retreat, unthout 
molestation — Death of Attila — Extinction of (he Wes- 
tern Empire — Erection of Italy into a Kingdom. 

Gaul could be no longer considerjed as an appendage 
tc tho Roman empire, if indeed the empire itself could be 
said still to exist. The province was filled witli tribes of 
barbarians of Gothic or Celtic descent,' carrying on de- 
sultory warfare with each other, which having neither a 
permanent result nor motive, becomes of as little conse- 



BY WHOM EUROPE WAS OVERRUN. 35 

qupnce to history, as, to use an expression of Milton, the 
battles of the kites and the crows. The name of Rome 
was still used in these scenes of confusion ; i^tius, the 
minister and general of Valentinian III., a man of courage, 
doubtless, but who had no means to follow up his attempts 
to reclaim the province of Gaul from the barbarous hordes 
by which it had been ravaged, save by the arms of others 
yet more barbarous than those by which Gaul was over- 
run and occupied, made, nevertheless, by the aid of such 
auxiliaries, a considerable stand. We are compelled to 
notice one or two of the more imporiant nations, to whom 
some degree of settled government had given the appear- 
ance of a certain advancement in social life. 

The Franks are in this case to be peculiarly attended 
to, as in their descendants we must look for the origin of 
the powerful kingdom of France we have already s-een 
that they occupied both sides of the Rhine in its lower 
course, and at first opposed the remains of Radagaisus'g 
army, till overpowered by the joint force of the Vandals 
and the other hordes. The Franks seem then to have 
resolved to seize upon a share of the prize which ihey 
could no longer defend. They advanred their banners 
accordingly, and amidst the general confusion, found no 
difficulty in adding to their western frontier a large por- 
tion of territory, comprehending nearly two of the pras- 
torian governments, into sixteen of which the Romans 
had divided Gaul. At this period they had established 
kingly government by hereditary descent in the Merovin- 
gian family. These princes allowed their hair to descend 
in long curls over their shoulders, while the rest of the 
Franks shaved the hair on the back part of the head, 
from whence the Merovingian dynasty were entitled the 
Long-haired Kings. Their dominions extended as far 
westward as the eastern bank of the Somme. 

The Goths, meaning that part of them called Visigoths, 
or Western Goths, had established themselves in the pro- 
vince of Gascony, and the adjacent parts of Spain ; and 
their chief, Theodoric, a prince of great resolution, having 
been converted with his subjects to the Christian faitn, 



36 INVASION OF THE i^UNS. 

had shown more wisdom and strength of mind than were 
usually the attributes of barbaric princes. With Theodo- 
ric, iEtius, the Roman general, made war, as one by 
whose arms Gaul was most likely to be detached from the 
empire. But a common enemy was appi'oaching, of a 
power so formidable as to compel both parties to unite in 
•■esisting him. 

The latter days of the Roman empire were marked by 
many of those emigrations upon a great scale, by which 
the nations who were put in motion were precipitated 
upon such as remained quiet, with the impulse of a river 
in inundation, overwhelming or bearing before them the 
settlements of former ages, and sometimes destroying all 
memory of their existence. Thus had one race succeed- 
ed another in Europe. The Celts had been its original 
settlers, the Goths, more strong, wise, and powerful, had 
driven this primitive people into the retreats of the moun- 
tains and valleys, where their remains are still to be found. 
The Sarmatian race also showed itself amid these succes- 
sive revolutions ; and the Alani, sometimes the scourge, 
sometimes the protectors, of the Roman provinces, were 
of the tliird great family, who were distinguished by a lan- 
guage and manners considerably different from those 
of the Goths, and their predecessors the Celts. But this 
unhappy period, the fourth and fifth centuries, was yet to 
see and suffer the remorseless rage of a fourth division of 
mankind, a race yet different from those by whom they 
had hitherto suffered. It seemed the will of Heaven, to 
punish perhaps the wickedness of the Roman people, that 
so fast as one horde of barbarians had begun to settle 
into peaceful inhabitants of the regions which the}^ had 
wasted, new bands were brought from the extremities of 
the earth to renew the devastations, which had become 
more infrequent ; and between the fresh invaders and 
their precursors, there was so little of connexion, or pos- 
sibility of alliance, that they did not even undcrs'and 
each other's language. A remarkable feature of this 
extraordinary course of events, was the unexpected ap 



INVASION OF THK HUNS. 37 

j)oarance of a countless army of Asiatics on the borders 
of the still harassed Eastern Empire. 

This extraordinary emigration had arisen out of convul* 
sions so far to the eastward as the Great Wall, by which 
the Cliinese emperors endeavoured in vain to protect 
themselves against the Tartars of the desert. Whatever 
was the original cause of communicating a movement so 
general, it n)ust have been of a most formidable character, 
since it acted so widely upon the- bosom of the Great 
Desert. Myriads of the mounted Tartar tribes collected to- 
gether, dragging or driving on each other, and poured on 
to the westward, as if directed by the instinct of the lo- 
cust-swarm, which holds undeviatingly upon its destined 
track to the country which it is called to ravage and de- 
stroy. Wherever this tide of arnied emigration came, it 
struck universal terror. Their numbers were in them- 
selves great, and the velocity with which their equestrian 
habits enabled them to move, magnified them into innu- 
merable shoals. Nor was their external appearance less 
terrible than their numerical force. The Gothic and Ger- 
man tribes had shown the astonished provincials a strength 
of limb, and a loftiness of stature, seemingly beyond the 
usual growth. On the'other hand, the Huns, as these new 
invaders were called, were dwarfish in stature, and their 
limbs, though strongly formed, exhibited a disproportion 
to each other, whicli almost amounted to deformitv. Their 
countenances were of the cast commonly called Chinese; 
and their small sparkling eyes deep sunk beneath the 
§kull, were placed at a distance from each other on the 
extremities of an unnatural breadth of forehead, while a 
flat nose and a large mouth added peculiar hideousness tu 
the wild and frightful expression of the face. Their man-' 
ners were almost as horrible as their appearance. Under 
the arbitrary despotism of their chiefs, they became famil- 
iarized with all the evils which despotism usually teaches 
its subjects to inflict, and to submit to. Their mannei.s ' 
were altogether ferocious and brutal, and if we could im- 
plicitly trust the accounts transmitted to us, i'ew mortals 



38 THE HUNS SETTLE IN EASTERN GERMANY. 

could more resemble demons in features and actions, than 
did these hordes of Tartar savages, who appeared in 
Europe towards the end of the fourth century. 

The Gothic tribes who inhabited the nortliern bank of 
the Danube, were the first to experience the furious at- 
tack of these new enemies, and were so much struck with 
terror, that, like one wave pursued by anothei', the body 
of the nation poured towards the banks of the Danube, 
and im})lored permission to cross that mighty barrier, and 
to take shelter under the protection of the Roman Empe- 
ror of the East, from the tide of barbarians wliicli were 
pouring upon them from the deserts of Tartary. The 
Goths were incautiously admitted to take refuge within 
the limits of the empire ; but as at the same time, the venal 
lieutenants of the frontier treated them with harshness and 
injustice, the incensed strangers became the most formi- 
dable enemies to its tranquillity. They never again left 
the territory of the Empire, but remained there, some- 
times in the character of avowed enemies, and at others in 
that of doubtful auxiliaries and friends, changing their re- 
lations as often as caprice or desire of gain could afford a 
motive for doing so. 

The Huns, whose approach had impressed so much ter- 
ror on the Goths, and constrained that redoubted nation 
to advance upon the Roman Empire, did not themselves 
take the same direction with the fugitives. They took 
undisturbed possession of Hungary, to which they gave 
their name, and of great part of eastern Germany. These 
fertile regions seemed sufficient for their wants, and what 
incursions they might make upon the Empire of the East, 
were not of a grand or terrific character. It may be con- 
jectured, that at this period the power of this wandering 
people was not combined under one general head, and 
that the thousand tribes of the Huns lived for the time 
each under the dominion of its own chief, in consequence 
of which the strength of the wliole nation was not readily 
brought to exert itself. 

But in 433, (A. D.) we find the forces of the Hans 
again con; bined under the guidance of one well quahfied to 



attila's invasion of gaux^. 39 

use 8 power so tremendous. This was Attila, or Etj;e!l, a? 
he is called by German tradition, surnamed by his terrified 
contemporaries the Scourge of God. By the ferocious ac- 
tivity of his followers actively seconding his own natural 
disposition, he was enabled to make good the inhuman 
boast, that grass never grew on the spot over which he 
passed. His first wars were with the Eastern Einpii'e, 
from which he exacted a large yearly tribute, besides an 
extensive cession of territory, and obliged Theodosius, 
then Emperor of the East, to submit to tlie most humili- 
ating demands. His protection was eagerly sought after 
by ^tius, called the Patrician, already mentioned, who 
obtained, by the influence of the king of the Huns, the 
highest position of power and trust at the court of Theo- 
dosius. But /Etius forgot gratitude in the virtue of pat- 
riotism. 

Attila, after hesitating whether he should attack the 
Eastern or Western Empire, and after having insulted the 
weakness of both, determined at last to pour upon Gaul 
the tenors of a Tartar invasion. TEtius, so much was the 
pride of Rome fallen, could only attempt to defend the 
Roman province against the barbarians of the east, by 
forming an alliance with one of those nations of barbarians 
which issued from the north. I have already told you 
that the Visigoths, or Gotliic tribes of the west, were in 
possession of Aquitaine, and had fixed their capital at 
Toulouse. This powerful nation was commanded by 
Theodoric, the son of a king of the Goths, called Alaric, 
and the policy of ^tius induced him to obtain tl)e aid of 
the Gothic king for the defence of Gaul against the Huns. 
These Tartars advanced with all their tribes ; and Attila, 
whose policy, like that of most barbarians, consisted chief- 
ly in cunning and duplicity, flattered /Etius and Theodo- 
ric alternately with his friendship, and threatened them 
with his formidable enmity ; thus preventing them, foi a 
time, from combining their forces for the common safety, 
by suggesting to each that the peril respected the othei 
alone. While thus amusing Theodoric and ^Etius, Attila, 
by a march seldom equalled, passed from Hungary to Gaui, 



■10 BATTLK OF CHALONS. 

crossed tlie Rhine by a bridge of boats, penetrated into 
the centre of the province of Gaul, which he wasted, and 
laid siege to the important town of Orleans. But mutual 
alarm had now accomplished that union between the Ro- 
man patrician and the valiant Gothic monarch, which mu- 
tual distrust had so long impeded. Theodoric raised a 
powerful army, and appeared at their head ; ^Etius called 
to arms the other barbarous people in Gaul, who still set 
some value on the name of Roman confederates, and 
among them brought to the field Merovaeus, the long- 
haired king of the Franks, though Attila called that na- 
tion his allies. Having formed the plan of their campaign, 
the allies marched forward with such rapidity, that they 
well-nigh surprised Attila while he was engaged in the at- 
tack on Orleans. On their approach, he was compelled 
to raise the seige, and, recrossing the river Seine, concen- 
trated his immense clouds of cavalry near Chalons, in the 
province of Champagne. The Goths, with the army of 
iEtius, advanced against him, and the crisis seemed to ap- 
proach, in which the fate of battle was to decide to whom 
this fair portion of Europe was doomed to belong. Both 
were barbarians; but the Goths, having received the Chris- 
tian faith, had at the same time adopted some of the atten- 
dant doctrines of morality, which mitigated the ferocity 
of their natural manners. But even ere they enjoyed 
these inestimable advantages, they possessed as much su- 
periority over the Tartars in the turn of their mind and 
manners, as in their stately and well-formed persons, which 
showed to such advantage, compared to their misshapen 
and fiendish-looking enemies. They were a people ac- 
customed to pride themselves in subduing and resisting 
the brutal impulses of their nature; without which power 
of restraint man is levelled with the beasts that perish. 
The Huns, on the contrary, wallowed in every pleasure 
that could gratify their animal instinct. The plurality of 
wives in which they indulged, produced among them all 
the usual consequences of degradation of the female sex, 
and indifference between the parents and the offspring. 
The battle of Chalons, therefo-e, was likely to determine 



DEATH OF ATTILA. A* 

whether the Euronean or tlie Asiatic savage, aliKe in rude 
and ferocious courage, but differing in so many other qual- 
ities, was to predominate in the province of Gaul. Thia 
engagement, fought in the year 450, (A. D.) was disput- 
ed with an obstinacy and fury, befitting the great stake fcr 
wiiich these fearless nations, on fire with rivalry, and each 
proud of its ancient name, pursued the bloody game of 
war. The aged but valiant king of the Goths, Theodo- 
ric, was killed in the front of the battle, but his place be- 
ing bravely filled by his eldest son, Torrimond, the im- 
petuous career of his followers was not checked, and Attila 
himself waS compelled, by the strength and fury of the 
Goths, to seek, after the Scythian custom, a retreat among 
his wagons, which were sometimes the means of trans- 
porting their families, and sometimes their fortification 
against a prevailing enemy. The troops, which sustained 
the once formidable name of Romans, suffered greatly, 
and jEtius, their leader, was separated from his soldiers, 
and with difficulty found refuge in the camp of his allies. 
But such a battle was dreadful to the victors as w^ell as 
the vanquished, and the Goths and Romans judged it 
more prudent to suffer Attila to effect a sullen and slow 
retreat, watched by a part of their army, than to risk the 
glory of their hard-won victory, in an attempt to cut off 
the retreat of the Tartar prince. Attila arrived in the 
northern parts of Italy, without having, in his retreat, 
suffered any considerable abatement of power, or by his 
defeat lost much of his renown. He died not long after, 
having compelled the Roman emperor of the Easi to giv-i 
to him, as one of his many wives, a beautiful Daughter 
with an immense dowery. Shortly after tliis event the 
Western Empire was entirely extinguished, ana a king- 
dom of Italy erected in its place. 



42 CONQ,UESTS OF CLOVIS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Conqvests of Clovis — His Conversion to Chrtstlanitd 
— War hetivee.n him and Alaric, King of the Visi- 
p;oths — Defeat of the Goths at Poitiers — Laii's and 
Customs of the Franks — Death of Clovis — Division 
of his Empire among his Sons — The Saracens in' 
vade France, and are repulsed by Charles Martel— 
The Jllerovingian Race of Kings deposed by Pepin 
Founder of the Carlovingian Dynasty — Conquests 
of Charlemagne — Division of the Empire among his 
Successors — Invasion of the JVorthmen or JVormans — 
Charles the Gross deposed. 

I HAVE already fixed your attention upon the Franks as 
the people who were destined to become the founders of 
modern France. But the original extent of their domin- 
ions was small ; the increase of their power slow ; nor 
did they for a length of titne bear much comparison with 
the Burgundians, who occupied the south-east of France, 
or with the still more numerous Visigoths, who repulsed 
the formidable host under Attila. We have already given 
some account of them and their long-haired kings, who 
were called after Merovasus, the ally of iEtiusand ofThe- 
odoric, at the famous battle of Chalons. But in his time 
the Franks can only be said to have kept their ground. In 
the time of Clovis (which is the same name w^ith Louis, 
the chl of the Celtic tribes resembling the aspirated con- 
sonant hi,) the power of the nation made great advance.?, 
rather oy the address and ability of the monarch, than by 
(he su'oerior valour of his followers, though the Franks 
were nllowed to" be among the bravest of the German 
tribes who invaded Gaul. Such of the Gallic colonists 
as still chose to retain the name of Romans, endeavoured 
to embody themselves under the command of one Sya- 
grius, who established his head-quarters at Soissons. 



CONQUESTS OF CLOVIS. 43 

But Clevis, with his warlike Franks, commtnced hia 
career of conquest hy deleating hin) ; and obtaining pos- 
session of his person, caused him to be beheaded, and 
seized upon his dominions, which added to the territo- 
ries of the Franks the provinces of Gaul betwixt the 
Rhine and the Loire. (486.) Clovis afterwards conquered 
a king of Thurlngia, named Basin, and extended his sway 
o\'er his country, the inhabitants of which were the more 
severely treated, that they had formei'ly joined Attila, and 
committed frightful cruelties upon the Goths and Franks, 
after the battle of ChalonSc 

But Clovis's destiny was principally deterni-ined by his 
adopting the Christian faith. The chief agent in his 
conversion, \vas his queen, Clotilda, daughter of Gundo- 
bald. King of Burgundy, his neighbour and ally. By 
her affectionate exhortations, the mind of her husband was 
disposed to Christianity, though he long hesitated to em- 
brace a religion which imposed many restrictions. At 
length, in a battle with the AUemanni, often already men- 
tioned as holding the upper part of the Rhine, Clovis, 
hard pressed, was induced to vow, that if he should obtain 
a victory, which seemed extremely doubtful, he would 
become a Christian. The King of the AUemanni was 
slain, his army discomfited, and the acquisition of his 
dominions greatly augmented the power of the Franks. 
'A. D. 496.) After tliis conquest, Clovis adopted the 
Christian faith, according to his vow, and was baptized 
m the Cathedral of Rheims, where it has been ever since 
the custom to crown and consecrate the monarchs of 
France. 

Burgundy, the country of his wife, was afterwards sub- 
jected by this ambitious King ; for Clovis was equally a 
dexterous politician, an accomplished soldier, and, we 
must add, an ambitious and unscrupulous man : by such 
characters are kintidoms acquired, and their limits aug- 
mented. Gundobald was attacked and defeated, and, 
after his death, his son Sigismond was taken and put to 
death ; the sons of Clovis causing him and his family to 
bo thrown into a well. 



44 WAR BETWEEN THE FRANKS AND GOTHS. 

But, before the conquest of Burgundy was perfected, 
a war broke out between Clovis and those Visigoths, 
who, in the time of Theodoric, had assisted in defeating 
Attihi at the battle of Chalons. These Visigoths were 
Arians, that is, they held certain opinions on the most ab- 
struse and mysterious doctrines of Cliristianity, taught by 
a clergyman called Arius, which are contrary to those ac- 
cepted by the Catholic Church. Unhappily for both 
sides, the Christiano of those early ages chose rather to 
make these differences in s])eculative opinion the means 
of persecuting each other, than listen to the great pre- 
cept of the Gospel, which imposes on us the duty to 
love our neighbour as ourselves. 

The Visigoths were at this time governed by a prince 
called Alaric, who was stirred, doubtless, by the blood of 
his renowned ancestor of the same name, and jealous of 
the growing conquests of the Catholic Clovis. The two 
monarchs met as friends upon an island in the Loire, which 
now divided their dominions. But it is remarkable how 
seldom such interviews serve to prolong peace and good 
understanding betwixt princes. They feasted together, 
and parted in appearance as friends, but with mutual ran- 
cour at heart.. Clovis held a council of his barons ; — "Let 
not these Arian heretics," he said, " longer enjoy the 
choicest portion of Gaul !" He was answered by loud ac- 
clamations, and, to give evidence of his own zeal, rode to 
the front of his nobles, and darting his battle-axe forward 
with a strong arm and desperate aim, " Where my francis- 
ca alights," he said, (such was tJie name which the Franks 
gave to iheir war-axes,) " will 1 dedicate a church to the 
blessed St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and to his holy 
brethren !" The weapon lighted on the spot where Clo- 
vis erected the Great Church, now called that of St. 
Genevieve, formerly of St. Peter and St. Paul. 

Under these auspices, Clovis advanced against Alaric, 
who aj)peai-ed at the head of an army of Goths, far supe- 
rior to that of the Franks., In the anxiety of the moment, 
Clovis endeavoured to propitiate the saints by magnificent 
promises. St. Martin of Tours, who had been active hi 



CHARACTER OF CLOVIS. 4o 

the general conversion of Gaul, was the principal object 
of his vows. He endeavoured to propitiate that saint with 
tnany promises, and particularly that of dedicating to Iiini 
a favourite charger, which was perhaps the thing in the 
world which he loved most dearly. The King of Franks 
joined battle with Alaric, near Poitiers, where the usual 
good fortune of Clovis prevailed. (A.D.500.) He showed 
his personal gallantry in the pursuit, and, attaching himself 
to the person of Alaric, slew him with his own lance, while 
at the same time he made his escape with difficulty from 
.two desperate Gothic champions, who united to avenge 
their monarch's death by that of his conqueror. The risk 
which Clovis had eluded by his own dexterity, and the 
excellent qualities of his approved charger, endeared the 
noble animal to him, and he endeavoured to repurchase 
him at the price of one hundred golden pieces, from the 
saint to whom the good horse had been pledged by the 
royal vow. But he was displeased to learn that St. Mar- 
tin had vindicated his property, and that the steed would 
not stir from his stable till redeemed at a higher rate by 
his secular master. " An excellent friend in time of need, 
this St. Martin," said the king, somewhat fretted at the 
saint's tenacity ; " but rather difficult to transact business 
with." He continued, however, his attachment to the 
saint, and his bounty to the existing clergy, which secured 
for the founder of the Frank monarchy a fairer character 
in the pages of the monkish historians than his crimes de- 
serve. Clovis's reputation as a conqueror was, in his lat- 
ter years, somewhat tarnished by a defeat received before 
Aries, from Theodoric the Great, King of the Ostrogoths, 
but it did not greatly affect his power. His religion, how- 
ever, consisted chiefly in superstition, and his esteem for 
St. Martin never interrupted the course of unscrupulous 
ambition which, on every possible occasion, seized the op- 
portunity of extending his dominions either by fraud or 
violence. Such princes of the Merovingian race, whose in- 
lerests seemed likely to interfere with his own family, he 
lut offwithout mercy. Of others, he shaved the long hairj 
and having thus rendered tbem inacapable of assuming the 



46 LAWS AND CUSTOMS OF THE FRANKS. 

established mark of regal sway, shut them up in cloisters. 
If he suspected them to be capable of reflecting thai 
their hair would grow again, he took sterner and more fatal 
means of shutting the paths of ambition against them. 

Yet, though stained with the blood of his own relatives 
as well as others, Clovis, with many crimes as an individ- 
ual, had great virtues as a monarch. He not only extend- 
ed the power of his tribe, over what w-e must in future call 
France, combining into one strong monarchy the shatterec' 
and broken fragments of so many barbarous tribes, as well 
as the feeble remains of the Roman settlers in Gaul ; but 
he ruled theni by equitable and humane laws, being the 
first of the barbarous conquerors of what had constituted 
the Roman empire, who tried to restore order in the do- 
minions he acquired, and engaged himself in creating, as 
well as destroying, the social union. His code of laws 
were called the Salic and Ripuarian, from having their 
origin on the banks of the Saal, and the eastern side of 
the Rhine ; and in their peculiar character they bore the 
stamp of the warlike freedom which distinguished the an- 
cient Franks. The King of the Franks gave to his friends 
and followers the personal and temporary possession of 
benefices, fiefs, or farms, varying in extent and value, 
stipulating the service of the vassal, in peace or war, in 
return for abandoning to him the profits of the soil. 
Originally, these grants terminated at the will of the 
holder of the soil, at least at the death of the tenant ; 
but at last it became usual to renew the grant, as a mattei 
of course, on the death of the vassal, and in favour of his 
eldest son, or nearest heir, who paid, or rendered, a cer- 
tain acknowledgment for receiving this preference. 

The female inheritance of fiefs was" prohibited by the 
Salic law, and the consequence, by excluding the Kings 
of England from the throne of France, led to those long 
and bloody wars which perpetuate the remembrance of 
the original edict. 

In many respects, the Frank institutions were those of 
barbarians. Slaughter was only punished by a fine, which 
Jifferei according to the arbitrary value at which the lavt 



LAWS A.ND CUSTOMS OF THE FRANKS. 41 

rated the persons slain. Ordeals of various kinds were 
referred to, in which the Deity was expected to work a 
miracle, in order to make manifest the guilt or innocence 
of an accused person, by protecting liim from being burnt 
*when walking bare-foot among masses of hot iron ; and 
similar unreasonable appeals were admitted, for obtaining 
a special testimony of innocence, at the expense of a 
suspension of the laws of nature. But a mode of trial, 
far more suitable to the manners of these martial barbari- 
ans, was the referring the issue of a lawsuit, or dispute 
of any kind, to the encounter of two champions, espous- 
ing the different sides of the contest in the lists. This 
regulation was so well suited to the genius and disposition 
of the barbaric tribes, that it was soon generally introduced 
throughout Europe. Thus arose in France, the first 
germ of those institutions, called the feudal system, the 
trial by combat, and other peculiarities, which distinguish- 
•ed the jurisprudence of the middle ages. 

We can also trace, in the customs and laws of the Franks, 
the same rude marks of the trial by jury, which seem orig- 
inally to have been formed among all the northern peo- 
ple, — though it is very v\'orthy of your notice, that the 
British alone have been able to mould it into sucli a form 
as to adapt it to a civilized state. The jurymen were, in 
the days of the origin of law, called compurgators. They 
were little more than witnesses brought forward to give 
evidence in behalf of the character of an accused person. 
" You have heard things alleged against me," said the 
accused, " but I will produce a certain number of com- 
purgators, men that are well acquainted with me, and who 
will pledge their oath that I am incapable of what has 
been imputed to me." By steps which it is something cu- 
rious to trace, the compurgators, limited to a convenient 
number, came to be the judges in the cause, listening to the 
proof adduced, wliether in favour of guilt or innocence, 
and deciding by their verdict which of the two predomi- 
nated. So that, from being witnesses in behaii" of the 
accused, the opinion of the compurgators becau'ie tiie 



ab SUCCESSOKS OF CLOVIS. 

means of deciding the truth or falsehood of the charge 
against hini. 

The high and excessive preponderance which the 
Franks allowed to their own warlike habits induced them 
to claim such superiority over the Gallic or Roman colo-* 
nists, that it must have reduced the whole, as it doubtless 
did a very great part of them, into the condition of bonds- 
men and Helotes to their haughty conquerors, had not 
the more refined, but less gallant provincialists, found a 
retreat in the church, by which they were raised in gene- 
ral opinion above the condition of their conquerors, and, 
in their character as priests, dealt forth to them, as they 
pretended, the good and evil things of the next world, 
in consideration of being admitted to a large share of 
temporal wealth and power as a recompense in the pres- 
ent. As the clergy were men of information, and pos- 
sessed what learning still existed in Europe, their lot was 
gradually rendered better than at first was threatened, and 
the rude warriors were frequently, even to their own sur- 
prise, obliged to submit to the well-informed and wily 
priest. But when the oppressed provincial of Roman 
or Gallic descent remained in a lay condition, he was 
considered as incalculably meaner and more worthless than 
the descendant of the Frank, or freeman, by whom he 
had been conquered, and the distinction betwixt him and 
the warlike barbarian remained long, and may be traced 
deep in the history and manners of the kingdom of 
France. 

Clovis having laid the foundation of a mighty state, 
which he extended by victory, and guarded by laws, died 
at Paris, which he had fixed upon for the capital of his 
dominions, in the year of God 511. The monarchy 
which he founded was not in all appearance likely to sur- 
vive him ; for upon his death, it was divided among his 
four sons ; but it was the singular fortune of the French 
monarchy to be often put in danger of dismemberment by 
a division of territory, from whicli it repeatedly escaped, 
by the reunion of the detached portions, upon the first 
opportunity. This spirit of individuahty it perhaps re 



SJUCCESSORS OF CLOVIS. 4\) 

ceived from the impulse of the institutions of Clovis, 
since those people who live under the same laws are pre- 
disposed to unite in the same government. 

But it is at least unnecessary to trace with accuracy 
the minute actions, separations, and reunions of territory, 
during the sway of the kings of the First, or Merovin- 
gian race. They were never remarkable for family con- 
cord, and while their empire was divided into departments, 
they seem to have fallen into absolute anarchy. Their 
wars against their neighbours and each other were con- 
ducted with the utmost cruelty, and their social regula- 
tiv^ns seem to have been broken through by the general 
propensity to insubordination. One of Clovis' grandsons, 
Theodibert, King of Metz, passed the Alps into Italy : 
and although that irruption, like all which the French 
have hitherto directed against their transalpine neighbotfrs, 
was in the end nugatory, yet he might have revived it 
with greater advantage at the head of a more numerous 
army, had he not been slain at a hunting-match by -a wild 
bull, no unfit opponent to a headlong conqueror. 

He left a son, but Clotaire, his uncle, had the address 
to seduce the allegiance of the people from the young 
heir of Metz, and to prevail on them to acknowledge his 
own better right, as nearer to the blood of the great Clo- 
vis ; and in the end this prince succeeded, by one means 
or other, in uniting once more under. his sway all the 
dominions of that great conqueror and legislator. After 
the death of Clotaire, the Frank empire was again sub- 
divided, and then again followed a succession of wars, 
murders, and treacheries, which might be the stain of any 
kingdom, if the like could be found elsewhere. 

About this time, the punishment of the kings of the 
TMerovingian race began to descend upon them in a manner 
which was the natural fruit of their offences. These 
princes had repeatedly neglected their kingly duties, to 
plunge themselves into sensual pleasures, and had used 
their regal power for the gratification of their own selfish 
wishes and desires, instead of applying it to the adminis 

943 



50 ' POWER OF THE MAIRE DU PALAIS. 

tration of justice among their subjects, or the niaiRtejfas.Cr 
of the laws. By a natural consequence, their powers of 
understanding became limited to the petty subjects m 
which alone their own unworthy passions induced th^m 
to take interest, while the real exercise of authority, 
whether in time of peace or war, devolved upon a minis- 
ter known by the name of Maire du Palais, or, as we 
would say, the high-steward of the royal household, who 
lisd the complete administration in his own hand,, to the 
total exclusion of the monarch. The kings, retiring into 
the interior of their palace, led a life so useless, and so 
totally without object, that they attained the name of 
Rois FaineanSj or Idiot Princes, while theii Maires de 
Palais, or ministers, assumed the command of the armies, 
administered justice, invaded some provinces, and pro/- 
lected others, and made war and peace at pleasure,, with- 
out even consulting the wish or inclination of the iong- 
iiaired puppet who held the name of king. 

There are few countries which have not at some time 
or other been cursed by imbecile princes, who have let 
their power slip from their hands, and abandoned them- 
selves to the pleasures of luxurioas indolence, while their 
ministers discharged the duties of government. But aJ 
SK) time in Europe has the surrender been so complete, 
so absolute, and so endariag, as in the case of the Mero/- 
viagian family. 

Pepin de Heristhal, so called' from ehieBy residing in a 
castle of that name, upon the Meuse, was one of the 
most distinguished of those ministers whose inereasiBg, and 
Anally exclusive power, prepared the way for the finaJ 
extinction of the race of Merovasus. Yet he still observed 
decency towards his supposed master. The unfortunate 
uionprch was treated with such state as fully satisfied the 
popular regard, which still venerated the blood of Clovis. 
This sort of parade was but of a coarse clumsy charac- 
ter, suitable to the rudeness of the age. TJie king, when 
exhibited to the people, was driven about the streets, like 
a show of modern days, in a large wagon drawn by oxea, 
aiirroimded by guards^ who^ under pretence of protee*.ia| 



DEATH OF PEPIN. 51 

Ills person, suffered no one to approach him , and on pub- 
iic occasions he kept aloof from his people, and was en- 
vironed by the great officers of state. Thus, though an 
f^ssential part of the ceremony, the king took as little 
interest in it as one of his own draught oxen. Every 
thing approaching to real business was settled by Pepin, 
who, to the title of Maire du Palais, expressive of the 
highest ministerial authority, added that of Duke, or leader 
of the Franks; and under these modest epithets, disposed 
of the full power of the crown, preserving in his person a 
simplicity of manners and appearance which astonished 
ail strangers when contrasted with the idle pomp which 
attended on the king's person. 

Pepin d'Heristhal did not escape the dangers attendant 
on the actual possession of power. He was attacked 
and stabbed at his devotions, by the dagger of an emu- 
lous rival. He recovered, however, and his authority 
was so easily transmissible, that he named his son Theo- 
bald his successor, as Maire du Palais, though only six 
years old, and died shortly after having done so. (A D. 
714.) 

But the fortunes of this favoured child, though the 
only legitimate son of Pepin de Heristhal, gave way be- 
fore those of the illegitimate offspring of the same minis- 
ter. This was the famous Charles, called Martel, or the 
Hammerer, from the resistless weight of the blows which 
he discharged on his enemies in battle. After various 
victories, improved with talent, he found himself able to 
compel the king, Thierry of Chelles, who then supported 
the dignity of the long-haired and weak descendants of 
Clovis, to admit him to the dignity of Maire du Palais, 
that is, to the administration of the kingdom of France. 
Most fortunate that kingdom was, in possessing his abili- 
ties at the time, for an awful crisis was approaching, 
threatening more imminent danger to France, than had 
menaced it since the great inroad of Attila. 

As in the days of that Scythian monarch, the rising 
kingdom was threatened with the invasion, to use the lan- 
guage of Scripture, of " a nation from far, whose tongue 



52 INVASION OF THE SARACENS. 

• hey did not understand," and who, in all the pride of 
victory, came with the Moslem form of faith in, the one 
hand, and the sword in the other, to propound to the 
Christians of France the choice of apostacy or death. 
These were the Saracens, or descendants of the Arabian 
believers in Mahomet, who, having accepted the law of 
that impostor, had burst forth from their deserts, tJieir 
natural ferocity and courage enhanced by their fanaticism, 
to lay waste the world, and preach the Alcoran. From 
the extremity of Africa, they crossed into Spain, and de- 
stroyed, after a brief struggle, the kingdom wliich the 
Goths had erected there, and which they found under the 
government of a profligate and unpopular monaich. (A. D. 
713.) And now their arms were turned against France. 
Aquitaine, an independent dukedom, a remnant of wMiat 
had ijeen the emj)ire of the Visigoths in that province, 
was first exposed to their inroads. It was governed by 
a prince named Eudo, wlio had hitherto been opposed to 
Charles Martel and his family, but now implored his as- 
sistance against the common enemy of Christianity. 

As the kingdom of the Franks still preserved exten- 
sive possessions on the east side of the Rhine, the Maire 
du Palais levied in Germany a large body of troops, whose 
lofty size, massive strength, and fair complexion, were 
likely to inspire surprise and terror into the swartliy and 
slender Arabs. Charles Martel, having communicated 
his plans to Eudo, took his measures for the aj^proaching 
campaign, where a defeat might have proved irreparable, 
with a degree of caution which seemed, foreign to his 
character. Permitting, and almost encoiu-aging, the nu- 
merous bands of the invaders to enfeeble their force by 
dispersing themselves through the country in search of 
plunder, he ke[)t his own army strongly concenti-ated. 
The Saracens and Christians at length encountered near 
the city of Tours, and the contest, which lasted several 
days, seemed to endure with an obstinacy worthy of the 
object of debate, namely, to what religion, and whose 
government, this fair portion of the European w^orid should 
ia future be subjected. (A. D. 732.) While the battle 



DKFEAT OF THE SARACENS. 53 

continued desultory, which was the case during the (irsl 
days of the strife, the Saracens, from the numbers and 
activity of their light squadrons, obtained some advan- 
tage over the Christians. But this was lost when the 
light-armed Arabs came to mingle in close combat with 
the warriors of the north, who were so much stronger in 
their persons, mounted on more powerful horseSj and. 
above all, accustomed to seek out and to sustain the dan- 
gers of close encounter. Thus the battalions of the 
Saracens were already hard pressed, and beginning tc 
give ground, when the cry of conflict was heard in their 
rear, and the infidels discovered that their camp was as- 
saulted by Eudo, at the head of the people of Aquitaine, 
who had concerted with ChaHes Martel the time and 
manner of so seasonable an attack. The Saracens then 
gave way, and were defeated with an immense slaughter; 
even if we decline believing that no less than three hun- 
dred and seventy-five thousand infidels, and only fifteen 
hundred Christians, were slain in the battle. This great 
victory decided the campaign, and the event of the war ; 
and Charles Martel pressed his success vigorously. The 
Saracens lost the footing they had gained beyond the 
Pyrenees, and Europe was saved from the imminent risk 
it had run of being darkened by the religious dreams of 
the African prophet. Charles, planning yet more impor- 
tant achievements than he had executed, was removed by 
death. (A. D. 741.) The clergy, notwithstanding his 
great services to Christianity, pretended that, his tomb 
being opened by accident, nothing was discovered but an 
ugly dragon, which, they boldly affirmed, was an exphcit 
mark of his eternal reprobation. The truth is, he had 
offended the churchmen, by calling upon them, with an 
irresistible voice, to surrender part of their wealth for the 
service of the state. 

Charles Martel was succeeded in his title of Duke and 
Prince of France, and guardian of its long-haired kings, 
by his sons, Carloman and Pepin, whilst a third son, Gri- 
poi^, struggled hard to obtain a share of authority. - Cur- 



54 DEPOSITION OF CHILUERIC. 

Ionian early retired from the world into an Italian convent 
and Gripon died, after various attempts against Pepin, 
which had been repeatedly forgiven. 

About tiiis period, Pepin, who had been liitherto con- 
lent to govern in the name of Childeric, the last of the 
JMerovingian kings, to whom, as to his fathers, the empty 
honours of sovereignty had been paid, began at last to 
tire of the obstacle interposed betwixt him and the name 
of king, while he already possessed the power. (A. D. 
750.) The important question, whether the Faineant, 
or Simpleton, should continue to possess the royal title, 
rather than the active and effective minister who dis- 
charged the duties of the situation, was referred to Pope 
Zacharias, then Bishop of Rome. This pontiff had al- 
ready received the most important services from Pepin, 
who had protected him against the arms of tlie Lombards, 
a nation of barbarians who had usurped the command of 
Italy. He was therefore warmly disposed to favour Pe- 
pin in his present object, on account of the regard he had 
for one who had rendered him such services ; and at the 
same time, by assuming the office of arbitrator in a matter 
of such consequence, Zacharias established a precedent 
for the superb claims which the Popes of Rome had al- 
ready formed to become the general umpires of the Chris- 
tian world. He had no hesitation to declare his opinion, 
that, in a contract like that betwixt the kings of France 
and their people, if the former should totally neglect and 
retire from all the duties of a sovereign, they lost the right 
of exacting allegiance from their subjects. Founding on 
the award or sentence of the pontiff, and availing him- 
self of the power which was entirely in his hands, Pepin 
held an assembly of the Frank nobles, and degraded 
Childeric HI., the last of the race of Merovaeus. Hi=; 
long hair was shaved, to prevent him from again ascend- 
ing the throne ; and for the same reason he was obhged 
to take religious vows, and retire into a monastery. Thus 
ended the First, or Merovingian race of the kings of 
France, in consequence of their total indolence and m- 
capo'^ity. You will hereafter see, that the family of Pe- 



TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POPE, 55 

pin did not themselves profit by the severe lesson imparted 
by their ancestor to his predecessors, and had in their turn 
their term of decay and degradation. 

Pepin, called by his historians Bref, or the Short, to 
distinguish him from his ancestor Pepin d'Heristhal, was 
elevated upon a buckler, after the ancient custom of the 
Franks, and declared king of the nation, of which he had 
been long the effectual ruler. He became the parent of 
the Carlovingian, or second race of French kings, who, 
like the Merovingians, their predecessors, commenced 
their dynasty in glory and conquest, and declined into de- 
generacy, sloth, and effeminacy, until they were super- 
seded by another royal family, as their ancestor succeeded 
Childeric. At this period, what had been the fragments 
of the Roman empire, had been repeatedly conquered 
and divided by barbarians of different origin, but yet, like 
the animal called a polypus, the severed parts showed a 
disposition to frame new combinations of government. 
Pepin and his son Charles, who obtained the name of 
Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, made great progress 
m erecting a new Western empire, differing widely from 
that which had formerly existed under the name and 
authority of the Romans, both in laws and institutions, 
the more recent of which were in a great measure founded 
on those of the Franks, which we have since called the 
Feudal System. 

To give their power the venerable aspect of religion, 
and the better to confirm their sway, both Pepin and 
Charlemagne engaged in repeated invasions of Italy, for 
the purpose of supporting the Bishops of Rome against 
the oppressions of the Fjombards, a people already men- 
tioned. This nation was finally conquered and annihilated 
by Charlemagne. He was then not unmindful that the 
Popes, as they were called, had been the first to sanctify 
Pepin's assumption of the crown by a formal sentence, 
and began to study a recompense which should at once 
attest his gratitude and his devotion. For this purpose, 
(^'harlemagne gave to the Bishops of Rome, who had 
hitheito been spiritual prelates only, a right of temporal 



&3 TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POPE. 

dominion over their city and territories adjacent, which 
raised them to the rank of princes of this ivorld. Future 
Popes were discontented that their power should he sup- 
posed to rest on the narrow basis of Charlemagne's grant, 
and asserted that they possessed a right of the same tenof 
from Constantino the Great, not only more ancient, but 
more ample. -But this pretended document is generally 
supposed to have been a forgery. At any rate, you must 
observe, and remember, that it was by the grant of Charle- 
magne that the Pope first laid the foundation of his power 
as a temporal prince, as it was in the case of Pepin Bref 
that Pope Zacharias first exercised his authority in dis- 
posing, or authenticating the disposal of the crown of 
France, as if he could have had any title either to depose 
the Long-haired Simpleton, or to elevate the Maire du 
Palais to the throne in his room. 

• The Popes failed not to evince their gratitude to Charle- 
niagne, from whom they had experienced so many favours. 
In return for having made the Bishop of Rome a tempo- 
ral prince, that prelate solemnly raised his benefactor, 
Charles, to the rank of Emperor. The realms which 
were united under the sway of this victorious prince, might 
well be termed a renewal of the Roman empire. As king 
of the Franks, he succeeded to their dominions both in 
France and Italy ; for when, under the long-haired kings, 
that people advanced tlieir conquests in France, they still 
retained their original German possessions on the east of 
the Rhine, which had been the land of their fathers, when 
they first formed their association, or league of freemen. 
But Charlemagne greatly enlarged these German pos- 
sessions by overrunning Saxony. That province was in- 
habited by a fierce people, still heathens ; and it cost a 
war of thirty years and upwards, ere they were conquered 
and converted. In Gerniany, Charlemagne also defeated 
the remains of the great nations of the Huns, or Tartars, 
and added to his limits the provinces of Bohemia and 
Pannonia, so as to reach the frontiers of the Eastern, oi 
Grecian empire. In Spain, he gained considerable ad' 
vantage?- over ih's Saracens, until he extended his Chns 



SUCCESSORS OF CHARLEMAGNE. 51 

tian power from the line of the Pyrenees, the natural 
boundary between France and Spain, to the banks ol tlia 
Ebro, which river bounded his empire. It was especially 
in his battles with the Saracens, that the romancers, who 
made the adventures of this great prince the subject of 
their poems, found materials for the numerous fables with 
which they altogether disguised and obscured his exploits. 
The battle of Roncesvalles, in which Charlemagne, though 
the cliief of Christian and European chivalry, suffered a 
terrible defeat, and lost a great part of bis Paladins, a se- 
lect band of renowned champions so called, is supposed 
to have taken place in a pass of the Pyrenees, descend- 
ing from these mountains. The rear-guard of the Franks 
was attacked by the natives of Gascony, whom -he 
Moors had bribed to assist on the occasion, and '/ery 
many slain. The celebrated Orlando, or Roland, ol 
whom romance says so much, and history so little, fell an 
this occasion. 

But although the incidents of the reign of Charlemagne 
have been made the theme of many fables or exaggera- 
tions, there can be no doubt that Charles, by his courage, 
constant activity, and frequent successes, deserved the title 
of Great. He was a legislator as well as a conqueror 
and studied those arts by which society is cemented and 
bound together, as well as the rules of war, by which its 
frame is dissolved and burst asunder. 

It would be difficult to compute the consequences to 
the world at large, if Charlemagne could have transmitted 
his great and powerful empire to a single successor, as 
capable as himself of wielding the government. But the 
French diadem, it would seem, had something benumbing 
in its effect upon the wearer ; and the desire among the 
descendants of Charlemagne to divide the succession, 
each seizing upon independent portions of the empire, 
prevented this great experiment from being made. The 
German Empire, so much more feeble than that of the 
French, has subsisted, as a rickety and unhealthy cliild 
sometimes survives its more robust brother. Habit, in the 
one case, kept together a people accustomed to one Ian* 
3* 



58 SUCCESSORS OF CHARLEMAGNE. 

guage and tho same system of laws. The Carlovingian 
Empire, on the other hand, fell to pieces for want ol those 
principles of cohesion. 

Charlemagne, indeed, transmitted great part of his do- 
minions to his only surviving son Louis, previously created 
King of Aquitaine, and associated with his father in the 
empire. But in the course of two or three generations, 
the various descendants of the great Emperor Charles 
fnade war among themselves, and by treaties divided and 
subdivided their empire into fragments. It had, indeedj 
required all the sagacity and activity of Charles, from 
whom they derived their descent, to keep together a large 
empire, consisting of unconnected kingdoms, inhabited in 
most cases by distinct races of people, Huns, Alani, Alle- 
manni, Lombards, and other tribes, who had in their turn 
laid waste the European world. Charlemagne endeav- 
oured to give strength and unity to this mass, by assigning 
to vassals of warlike skill, and of distinction at his court, 
the government of different provinces, they always hold- 
mg their authority from and under himself as superior of 
the whole : and while a man ^of such wisdom and povver 
was at the head of the empire, these governors were 
compelled to do their duty, and as but few of them had 
yet obtained hereditary rights to their offices, they were 
liable to lose them upon incurring the emperor's displeasure. 
In the assemblies of the crown vassals, Charlemagne 
made, by the advice of his clergy and nobles, those laws 
which were called Capitulars, and which regulated his 
empire. In these general councils of the nation, there 
reigned among the hardy vassals, who composed them, a 
strong spirit of fresdom, mingled with a deference to the 
will of their emperor, which was naturally founded on 
the wisdom and high talents of this great monarch, the 
extent of his power, and the number of his conquests. 
He had also a mode of giving advice to those around him 
on such occasions, in which mirth was joined with sober 
counsel, and a serious lesson given under the appearance 
of a jest. For example, although Charlemagne himself 
cf'splayed upon public occasions a considerable degree of 



ANECDOTE OF CHARLEMAGNE. 59 

rude magnificence, yet it was merely for the support of 
his impeiial dignity in the public eye, and not from any 
pleasure which he received from the gratification of per- 
sonal vanity. He dreaded, therefore, the introduction of 
luxury among his subjects. On one occasion, observing 
that liis nobility and vassals had indulged to extravagance 
in silk dresses, lined with fur, he invited them, thus ar- 
rayed, to a royal hunting party, though the weather was 
the depth of winter, and the day rainy. He then, after 
they had been completely drenched in the forest, led them 
back to the royal hall, where the heat of the fire shriv- 
elled up the wet furs. Charles on this gloried in his 
own plain sheepskin cloak, which had neither suffered 
by the storm nor by the heat, and exhorted the tat-sred 
crew by whom he was surrounded, to reserve silk and 
furs for days of ceremony, and to use in war and in the 
chase the plain but serviceable dress of their ancestors. 

In this anecdote there is more meaning than may be at 
first seen. In the decay of the Roman Empire, the suc- 
cessive defeats sustained by the various warlike tribes, 
which, seizing on the provinces of that immense ruih, 
had become in their turn a prey to luxury and effeminacy, 
and sunk under the sway of barbarians, who retained 
their wild courage and simple manners, there was a strong 
lesson to future conquerors. From this, Charlemagne 
was naturally led to foresee the degeneracy which might 
sap the foundations of his own throne, and bring down 
upon the Carlovingian race, of which he himself was 
the founder, a fate similar to that of the Merovingian 
dynasty, which his father, Pepin Brtf, had extinguished. 
Neither were his apprehensions far removed from the 
truth. 

Charles was succeeded in his throne by Louis, called 
the Debonnaire, from his obliging and gentle character 
(A. D. 814.) That character was, however, greatly too 
Boft for the times in which he lived ; and the instructions 
with which his father had carefully imbued him, proved 
inadequate to form his courteous and yielding temper to 
tn(;ountor the difficulties of his situation. His sense o*" 



60 LOUIS THE DEBONNAIRE. 

religion took an unhappy direction, and subjected him to 
undue influence on the part of^ the -prelates and clergy, 
who abused his weakness, and usurped the royal privi- 
leges. The near relations of the new emperor conspired 
against his crown and life, and he felt a degree of remorse 
at the necessity of punishing them, which increased the 
indirect authority of the priesthood, and induced him to 
submit to the most degrading penances. The Empress 
Judith, of the House of Guelf, obtained also a power 
over her husband's mind, which she used to pernicious 
purposes, persuading him to raise Charles, a son whom 
she bore to him, to a right of succession in the empire, 
and estates dependent thereon. This incensed the sons 
whom Louis the Debonnaire had by his former marriage. 
Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis, engaged in an ungrateful and 
unnatural rebellion against the good-natured king. (A. D. 
835.) He even became prisoner to his insurgent sons, 
and was solemnly degraded from his royal dignity, although 
be was afterwards recalled to the throne. This was only 
to be disturbed by fresh family intrigues, in which, em- 
barrassed by the solicitations of his young wife, and the 
pretensions of his adult sons, Louis the Debonnaire died 
broken-hearted, but left no part of his dominions to his 
son Louis, whom he considered as especially undutiful. 
(A. D. 840.) "Yet you must forgive him as a Chris- 
tian," was the suggestion of the Bishop of Mentz. " I 
forgave him with all my heart," said the dying emperor , 
" but let him beseech God's forgiveness for bringing my 
gray hairs with sorrow to the ground." Thus died the 
Emperor Louis le Debonnaire, son of the Great Charles, 
on whose tomb the adage might have been inscribed, 
that, " Mere good-nature is only a fool." 

Immediately upon the death of Louis, a general war 
ensued among his children : and in a dreadful iDattle which 
took place near Fontenoy, upwards of one hundred thou- 
sand men of tlie Frank nation fell in defence of the pre- 
tensions of the various claimants. It was not till five years 
afterwards that this fraternal discord was terminated by a 
♦'■eaty, by which the dominions of Charlemagne were divid- 



DEATH OF LOUIS THE DEBONNaIRE. 61 

eil into three parts, and shared among the three brothers 
The eldest, Lothaire, kept the title of Emperor ; he also 
retained all Italy, with the city of Rome, and the whole 
tract of country lying betwixt the rivers Rhine, Rhone, 
Saone, Meuse, and Scheldt, which was from him called 
Lotharingia, the memory of which word survives in the 
word Lorrain, still applied to a part of what were Lothaire's 
dominions. Louis the Second, his brother, enjoyed all the 
dominions of Germany beyond the Rliine, and was thence 
ailed Louis the German. Charles, whose pretensions had 
during his father's lifetime, given so much occasion for dis- 
turbance, was declared King of the third portion into which 
the empire of Ch.arlemagnevvas divided. This compre- 
hended Aquitaine, and all the provinces lying between the 
Loire and the Meuse, Thus the empire of Charlemagne 
was once more partitioned among his descendants, and 
their civil quarrels ended for a season. But their unnatu- 
ral and bloody war had reduced them to such a state of 
weakness, as encouraged enemies to rise against them on 
all sides 

The Saracens, no longer restrained by such generals as 
Pepin, Charles IVlartel, or Charlemagne, again attempted 
to extend their incursions into Gaul by land, into Italy by 
sea, and afforded no rest to the afliicted provinces of Char 
lemagne's empire. A still more formidable people had 
taken up arms for the purpose of harassing the coasts of 
Europe and at their pleasure filling their vessels with spoil, 
or landing and acquiring settlements by force. These new 
and powerful conquerors were the inhabitants of Norway, 
Sweden, and Denmark, called by the ancients Scandina- 
via, The fleets equipped by these people were extreme- 
ly numerous, and commanded by such chiefs as, eithei 
from hereditary descent or election, had aspired to author- 
ity. Undaunted courage was necessary in the command- 
er of a people, who scarcely knew even the name of fear, 
and made it their boast that they signalized their courage 
at the expense of all other people on earth. As they were 
very expert sailors, they equipped numberless fleets, which 



62 INVASIONS OF THE NORMANS. 

ravaged all the coasts of Britain, France, and Spain and 
sometimes even entered the Mediterranean. Thougli of 
various nations, yet being all of northern extraction, these 
pirates were known to the inhabitants of the south under 
the name of Northmen or Normans, by which they became 
so formidable, that public prayers were put up to Heaven 
for delivery from their visitations. The people, too ter 
rifled to resist a nation whose profession was piracy, their 
religion heathenism, and their element war, endeavoured 
to pacify them by humble submission : the kings attempt- 
ed to bribe them by money. But though one squadron 
might be thus induced to relinquish their purpose for a 
season, the next summer was sure to bring fresh swarms 
of spoilers ; and tl)e invasions of the Normans upon the 
coasts of Southern Europe make the most reii:iarkable 
feature of the ninth and tenth centuries. • 

To this incalculable evil the coasts of France were ex- 
posed, while its interior was ravaged by the many evils 
which attend on the inability and disunion of princes. Tiie 
epithets bestowed by history on the line of Charlemagne, 
are taken from personal imperfections ; and such nick- 
names as the Bald, the Simple, the Hammerer, and the 
Gross, could only be conferred on men who were with- 
out more worthy claims of distinction over the rest of man- 
kind. It is impossible to suppose that these last descendants 
of Ciiarlemagne possessed either mental energy or virtue 
from which a distinction could have been assigned to them 
In the year 885, the disasters of France, from the mis- 
conduct of their Princes, and the assaults of foreign ene- 
mies, seemed to approach a crisis which threatened its 
national existence. 

At this period Charles, called the Gross, ov fat, had, 
after the death of most cf the direct descendants of Charle- 
magne, obtained the title of Emperor, with which he 
united for a time that of King of France. This prince 
had been formerly induced to consent to the settlemeni 
of a body of Normans in his province of Friezeland, hop- 
ing their presence and co-operation might protect the 
coast of the Netherlands against visitations from theii 



TREACHERY OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 63 

countrymen. Finding that the Normans continued their 
incursions, and that Godfrey, the king of the settlei's, 
intrigued against him with Hugo, a bastard nephew, he 
resolved by a daring crime to redeem the consequences 
of a political error. Henry, Duke of Saxony, one of 
the Emperor's high officers, by the orders of his master, 
prevailed upon Godfrey to hold a friendly interview with 
him. To this interview Duke Henry brought one Count 
Berard, whom Godfrey had driven from his estate. The 
consequence was easily to be foreseen. Berard upbraid- 
ed the Norman prince with his wrongs, and in the alter- 
cation killed him with his battle-axe. The Normaus 
who attended their leader shared his fate. The Empe- 
ror having, in like manner, treasonably obtained posses- 
sion of his nephew Hugo's person, caused his eyes to be 
put out, to render him incapable of reigning, and shut 
him up in the great convent of St. Gal, in Switzerland. 

The death of Godfrey was followed by the most alarm- 
ing consequences. The furious Normans, justly incensed 
at the treacherous murder of their leader, assembled a 
fleet of seven hundred sail, small vessels certainly, since 
they came up the Seine, which is inaccessible to large barks, 
but having on board a great army of their countrymen. 
Their object was to attack the city of Paris, the capital of 
France since the time of Clovis. (A.D. 885.) When 
assaulted by the Normans, the city occupied only what is 
still called the Isle of Paris, which was surrounded by the 
Seine on both sides, and accessible by two bridges, the 
approaches to which were strongly fortified with towers. 
In those times it held a high rank as a strong fortification, 
and was accounted one of the ramparts of Christendom. 
To protect and defend these walls and towers, the city 
was filled with the best of the French warriors, who de- 
voted themselves to its defence. The Normans, who had 
expected to carry tho place by surprise, were in that 
respect disappointed. But although their habits did not 
vender them peculiarly fit for undertaking regular sieges, 
they disembarked their numerous bands, and pressed the 
city both with a blockade, and also by repeated assaults 



64 SIEGE OF PARIS 

at the sword -point. Much courage was shown \a tht 
attack and defence, and all the weapons of war then 
known were called into exercise. The bridges were 
defended by Eudes, an officer of courage and talent. 
Hugo the Abbot, so called from his possessing, though a 
layman and a military leader, the revenues of some 
abbeys, threw himself into the city of Paris, of which he 
was count, and with Goselin, bishop of the diocess, ar- 
ranged its defence. Both distinguished themselves by 
their conduct, and both died in the course of the siege. 

The Normans erected three movable towers, each 
capable of sheltering sixty men, and mounted upon 
wheels, by which they attacked the defences of the 
biidges. But these towers were dashed to pieces by the 
stones hurled on them, or consumed by combustibles 
discharged from engines for that purpose. Battering 
rams were also used by the Northmen, with the like 
indifferent success, being broken by the weight of stones 
hurled fj-om the machines of the besieged. The histori- 
ans of Paris still commemorate the courage of twelve 
warriors who defended to the last the tower of the Little 
Chatelet. Being sepai'ated from the rest of the fortifica- 
tions by a breach made by the river, they could receive 
no assistance. When they perceived the desperation of 
their situation, they gave liberty to the hawks which 
each had along with him, and died in continuing an una- 
vailing defence, with a resolution which would have sur- 
prised any people but the Normans, to whom such deeds 
ot desperate valour were familiar. 

But though the defence of Paris was obstinate, the 
loss of men and scarcity of provisions began to be dis- 
tressing. Sigefroy, the king of the Normans, having 
under him thirty thousand men of that warlike nation, 
did not confine himself to the operations of the siege, 
but spread his forces through France, laying waste the 
coimtry, and collecting supplies for his army. His cav- 
alry and chariots of war (which are then for the last time 
mentioned in history,) performed this duty so completely, 
tiiat the Parisians despatched Eudes, who had succeeded 



SIEGE OF PARIS RAISED. 65 

Hu^o the AbLot, in the command of the place, to tlje 
Emperor Charles the Gross, with an account of their 
situation, and supplications for relief. 

Charles sent Henry, Duke of Saxony the perfidious 
agent in the murder of Godfrey, to try if his courage could 
extinguish the flame which his treachery had kindled. 
But as the Duke led but few troops, he could only throw 
himself into the city with provisions and reinforcements. 
Shortly afterwards, in an attempt to reconnoitre the lines 
of the besiegers, this- leader fell, horse and man, into a 
ditch covered with loose straw, laid upon slight hurdles, 
out of which he could not extricate himself, but was 
lain, and spoiled of his armour. 

Paris was now more exposed than ever, for the troops 
of Henry of Saxony disbanded after his death. Eudes 
was now, as we have said. Count of Paris, and did what 
man could to animate the spirit of resistance. Another 
great danger was indeed approaching the Parisians. It 
was the heat of summer, 'and the river Seine became so 
low as to be fordable. Suddenly, at the hour of dinner, 
when the besieged kept but slender watch, the Normans 
rushed to the river side in one or two bodies, .plunged in, 
and, gaining the opposite bank, began to ascend, by lad- 
ders, the low walls, with which, trusting to the usual 
depth of the water, its margin had been defended. A 
few gallant French champions rushed to arms, and made 
good the defence, till more came up, and drove back the 
besiegers, cliiefly by the aid, according to the clergy, of 
the relics of St. Genevieve, which were displayed upon 
the rampart. 

The day after these extreme dangers, the banners of 
France appeared on the hill called Mont-Martre, which is 
hard by Paris, and the approach of the army of the em- 
peror diffusing the utmost joy and hope among the citi- 
zens, obliged the Normans to retire within their own 
lines. Sigefroy was at bay, but he was a lion ; and 
Charles the Gross deserved his name too well to under- 
take such a risk, as his ancestor, Charlemagne, would 
944 



66 DEPOSITION OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 

have willingly ventured upon. So soon as the Empero? 
was convinced that the Normans would abide the evenl 
of battle, or prosecute their siege of Paris, even in his 
very sight, if he lay still to await the event, he resolved 
to end the war by treaty, which he became unwilling to 
peril upon the event of a battle. By a base composition, 
he agreed to purchase the retreat of the Normans (whom 
his own treachery had been the cause of bringing to 
Paris,) for a sum of seven hundred pounds of silver, and 
consented that the foreigners should take up their winter 
quarters in Burgundy. For this purpose, the Normans 
desired to ascend the- Seine, and Charles would have 
been willing to permit them to pass under the armed 
walls of Paris, which they had so often assaulted in vain. 
But the Parisians, who were conscious that they owed 
their escape from plunder, conflagration, and massacre, 
more to their own vigilance and bravery, than to the 
tardy aid of the Emperor, refused to permit the Norrnana 
to approach so near their ramparts, that a breach of faith 
might have endangered their city. Sigefroy and his 
Normans, therefore, had no other or convenient road to 
Burgundy, than to draw their light galleys over land, and 
again to launch them in the river Seine, at a certain dis- 
tance above Paris ; and so loaded with spoil, they left 
the neighbourhood of the metropolis, whose dignity they 
had so long insulted. 

As Charles the Gross had made a great effort through- 
out all his dominions, to collect the army which he head- 
ed on this occasion, and, as very decisive and triumphant 
results had been anticipated, his subjects were equally 
mortified and incensed at the paltry and dishonourable 
treaty, by which he bought what he might have gained 
by the sword. Domestic quarrels with .his nife, arising 
out of jealousy, increased the pain, mortification, and 
dishonour of his situation. His senses appear to have 
given way under these complicated distresses. He sunk 
into a kind of idiocy ; and it was only by the charity of 
the Bishop of Mentz, that he was saved from being in 
«v'ant of the most ordinary necessaries of life. Arnold, 



DEATH OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 67 

one of his nephews, was chosen emperor In his pLoe ; 
and the terms in which Ciiarles petitioned liim for even h 
bare subsistence, seem to show that his mental disorder 
had lucid intervals, since he was able to draw so touch- 
in;^ a picture, of the uncertainty of human affairs. 

" You," says the deposed emperor, " are now elevated 
to the state from which I have lately fallen. 1 pray the 
All-F^crwerful to confirm you in your place, and to grant 
you the protection which He . has withdrawn from me- 
You are on the throne, and I am on the dunghill which 
my niisconduct has spread for myself. The advantages 
of mind are still at my command ; and no king can grant, 
or take these away. But for the support necessary to life, 
I must ask it from others ; and from none so naturally as 
from yoUj one of the race of my fathers, and holding the 
place from which 1 have fallen. Among so numerous a 
household, among so many knights and gentlemen, who 
share your bounty daily, the simple necessaries of life 
bestowed on an old man will be no additional burden." 
The new emperor was touched by the petition of his 
humbled predecessor, and fixed upon him the rent of 
some villages for his maintenance. Charles the Gross 
did not long survive his humiliation, dying (as some say] 
by assassination, shfirtly after he was deposed. (A. D. 
888.) 



68 ELEVATION OF EUDES 



CHAPTER V. 

Elevation of Eudes to the Throne of France — Disor- 
ders during the reign of Charles the Simple — En* 
croachrnents of the JVobiliiy — The Feudal System-^ 
Its uidvantages and Disadvantages — Invasion of Rol- 
lo, ivho obtains the Duchy of JVormandy, and the 
Daughter of Charles the Simple in Marriage — Death 
of Charles — Reign of Louis d^Outremer — Descent 
of Hugo the Great, ancestor of the Bourbons — Reign 
of Lothaire — War with JVormandy, and ivith Ger- 
many — Dissatisfaction of the French on account of 
Lothaire^s Treaty with Germany — Reign of Louis 
the Faineant, the last of the Carlovingian Dynasty. 

We have seen that Arnold, a prince of the blood of 
Charlemagne, was chosen emperor on the deposition of 
the unfortunate Charles the Gross. In that part of the 
deposed monarch's dominions, however, which retained 
the name of France, the inhabitants appear to have de- 
termined to seek for the virtues and talents of Charle- 
magne elsewhere than in his line, where these fair quali- 
ties seem to have become extinct. Eudes, the valiant 
Count of Paris, so distinguished for his defence of that 
town, and dear to the people both for his own and his 
father's virtues, was elevated to the throne by the voice 
of the people. He showed himself worthy of their good 
o]tinion ; for when he proposed himself to the Emperor 
Arnold, as a candidate for the crown of France, he 
declared himself willing to resign his pretensions, rather 
than incur the guilt of causing a civil war. The Empe- 
ror, struck with the generosity of Eudes, at once ac- 
knowledged his title ; and he entered accordingly upon 
the government of France. But either the talents and 
courage of Eudes, though allowed to be great, were 
iuadeqviate to the purpose of saving this distractnd king^ 



TO THE THRONE OF FllANCE. C9 

dom, or at least he had no opportunity of exercising 
them to that extent. The harassing and repeated 
encroachments of tlie Normans, and tlie reheUions among 
his own subjects, continued, although the courage of 
Eudes repressed the one, and subdued the other. (A. D. 
898.) He died, esteemed as a patriot monarch by the 
common people, whom he protected, but detested by the 
nobility, whom he endeavoured to subject to the strict 
dependence on the crown, from which they were in the 
course of altogether freeinfj themselves. We shall here- 
after see, that he was an ancestor of the royal lamily of 
Bourbon. 

Eudes left a son, Arnold ; but he did not succeed to 
the crown of thorns worn by his fither, it being occupied 
by Charles, a prince of the Carlovingian race, being the 
son of one of this degenerate family, called Louis the 
Stammerer. This Charles wanted neither courage nor 
good nature. Indeed, it seems to have been an excess of 
the last, joined to a great degree of indolence, which pro- 
cured him the historical distinction of The Simple, which 
he does not seem otherwise to have deserved. Under 
the reign of so weak a prince, the disorders of the state, 
which had already risen to so great a pitch, had become 
general and systematic. To understand this, you have 
only to recollect, that in the time of Charlemagne, who 
held his sceptre with a firm hand, governments, offices, 
and even landed estates, were only granted for life to 
such individuals as the Emperor chose to distinguish. At 
the death of the person who held the benefice, as tlie 
subject of the grant was called, it passed again to the 
crown, and was conferred elsewhere. But in the de- 
clining state of the Frencii monarchy, the great men 
who were in j)ossession of offices or lands, were naturally 
desirous of perpetuating their authority in .their offices, 
and their property in estates, to their families. Hence 
arose, at first in a few instances and at length from gene- 
ral custom, the formidable novelty, that the vassal had 
an heieditary interest in the fief, and that, far Irom falling, 
on the death of the original holder, it was transmitted to 



70 THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. 

his eldest son as a matter of right, he being of course 
obliged to perform the same services to wliicli his ances- 
tor had subjected himself by accepting the benefice in 
the first instance. Thus the nobles of the first rank, 
who now took the title indifferently of Duke. Mar- 
quis, Count, or the like, were no longer the mere del- 
egates of tlie sovereign who had conferred the gift upon 
their predecessors, but in all respects, except the title, 
formed an order of petty kings, distributing justice in 
their own right, coining money, making laws and ordi- 
nances, and, except the deference and allegiance which 
they owed to their superior, the monarch wlio originally 
conferred the fief, acting as independent princes, each in 
his own province. 

In the courts of these petty princes or great vassals of 
the crown, the same form of feudal grants took place. 
The Duke, Count, or Marquis, assigned ofBces, connect- 
ed with his owA little court, and distributed lands to 
nobles of lower rank, on condition of obtaining their 
assistance in war and their counsels in peace, being the 
services which the great vassal himself rendered to the 
sovereign. These tenures descended still lower. Thus, if 
the great vassal bad his officers of the household, and his 
soldiers, who gave him their service, and that of their fol- 
lowers in war, each of these persons had their own house- 
hold arranged on the same footing, difFei-ing only as their 
vassals and dependants were fewer in number, and less libe- 
rally recon)pensed. The system descended so low, that even 
private gentlemen had their domestic establishments upon a 
scale resembling that of the sovereign himself; and though 
he had only the rank of a vassal, while rendering his attend- 
ance on the court of the lord from whom he held his fief, 
each was, notwithstanding, himself a prince when seated 
ifi his own tower, and surrounded by his own dependants, 
bearing the pompous epithets of chief steward, chief 
butler, or grand huntsman, and distinguished as such by 
these duties at home and abroad. 

V'vhen this system of feudal dependence, from the high- 
est to the lowest rank of society, began to assume the 



» LEOBES AND SERFS. 7l. 

form of fixed and assured law, it produced an influence 
upon government and manners, which was, on several 
accounts, extremely advantageous, and on others very 
much the reverse. In the first point of view, it gave a 
higj] tone of independence and courage to tlie nation, 
thus divided into vassals and superiors, each, from tlie 
private gentleman to the sovereign upon the throne, ren- 
dering the same or similar service to his superior, wliicii 
ho received from his vassals, all jealous of their privileges 
as freemen, tenaeiously fond of their personal rights, and 
equally so of their military reputation. Each vassal paid 
to his superior that service and homage which his fief, 
in its peculiar nature, required ; but that being once dis- 
charged, his obligation was ended, and he was as free a 
man as his superior himself. Tliis proud refiectioa seem- 
ed the more justly founded, that those vassals who had 
divided and subdivided among them the province of 
Gaul, were almost all descended from the Franks, Bur- 
gundians, and other tribes of the barbarous but free con- 
querors of the Roman state, equal, therefore, from the 
beginning, as natives of the same tribe of freemen, who 
acknowledged no distinction. You will recollect that these 
conquerors seized upon two-thirds of the land, and appor- 
tioned it among themselves, assuming the title of Leodes, 
signifying freemen. The Roman colonists, on the other 
hand, whom the barbarians had subdued, were permitted 
to cultivate the remaining third, which was left by the 
conquerors for their subsistence. It was by their hands that 
almost all the agriculture of the country was carried on, 
which necessary, though irksome task, the Leodes left to 
tiie charge of the serfsr,or bondsmen, for to that station were 
\hc. unhappy Romans reduced, and by that disgraceful ep- 
ithet were they known. Not only did their labours supply 
the country with corn, but such tribute as was levied in the 
province, was exclusively paid by this degraded class of 
the nation. The freeman hunted, fished, or went to war, at 
the call of his superior, or his own inclination ; but he paid 
no tax, and pat his hand to no labour. The pasturages 
were stocked with cattle, often the spoils of war, whlvh 



, 72 INDEPENDENCE OF THE 

were kept eitlier by serfs or domestic slaves ; for b>;th 
kinds of servitude were known to the Frencli, and tl)e laws 
of war placed the captive at the pleasure of the conqueror, 
unless he was able to purchase his freedom by a ransom. 
It naturally followed, that the men who thus enjoyed in- 
dependence, and escaped every species of toil except that 
of warfare, were a bold and high-spirited race, and that 
sensible of the value of their freedom, accustomed to 
connect their liberty with the feats of their ancestors, they 
were alive to every encroachment upon it, and always 
ready to vindicate what they held so dear, from the slight- 
est attack of domestic oppression. Their nobles and 
gentry grew up a fine race, and were improved by such 
Normans as settled among them ; and you will presently 
see that the numbers of these were very great. They 
were ready warriors, generous, and true to their word, 
and in so far the character of the French nation was 
highly improved by the introduction of the feudal system. 

In other respects, the independence of the crown vas- 
sals on the king, and that of the barons of the second 
order upon the crown vassals, an independence which 
descended to the lowest link of the feudal chain, formed 
but a feeble system of government, and gave an insecu- 
rity to the ties which bound together the national compact. 
Tlie whole kingdom, instead of a country having one in- 
terest and one government, seemed at first sight divided 
among the great vassals of the crown, none of whom 
was disposed to admit the king to possess or exercise 
more power over him than the monarch was strictly en- 
titled to by the rules of the feudal tenure. This spirit 
of resistance was the more awake, as these great feudatories 
considered the diminution of the king's influence as the 
ready mode of increasing their own, and many probably 
looked forward to the time when each grand vassal might 
altogether shake himself free from the feudal yoke, and 
possess his dukedom or county in his own right, as an 
independent prince. 

Upon looking at the condition of the crown vassals 
more f^losely, it might be observed, that the same pnuci- 



FRENCH VASSALS. 73 

pie of disunion which induced them to encroach upon the 
rightful claims of the crown for obedience and support, 
was undermining their own, and that their vassals and de- 
pendants were frequently disposed to refuse that service 
to them which they hesitated to grant to the crown. It 
was the result of both circumstances, that the unanimous 
power of the nation could not be easily exerted, while it 
was divided and torn asunder by so many subjects of dis- 
pute and hostility. To this disunion was also to be 
attributed the oppressive rights assumed by the feudal 
lords within their own territories, where the barons of in- 
ferior rank, without even the pretence of right or justice, 
oppressed and ruined the unhappy serfs, and robbed, 
spoiled, and murdered without any check, save their own 
haughty pleasure. It could not be said, as an excuse for 
these abuses, that there was no king in France, but it 
might have been well urged, that the crown, besides being 
placed on the head of the simple Charles, was divested 
in a great measure of that authority which prevents 
crimes, and the power which inflicts upon them condign 
punishment. 

Amid these internal disorders of the French, the re- 
peated invasions of the Northmen assumed an aspect so 
formidable, that it was plain they were not made with the 
mere purpose of spoil, but in order to establish a lasting 
conquest either of the whole kingdom, or of some of 
its principal provinces. A large army and fleet of this 
brave and lawless people appeared at the mouth of the 
Seine, formidable from their unwonted degree of discipline, 
and the respect and obedience which they paid to their 
prince. This was Hrolfe, or Roilo. By birth he was 
son of the King of Denmark, distinguished by his conduct 
in many expeditions both in Britain and France, and hav- 
ing in his personal character a respect for truth and fidelity 
to his word, which was not a usual characteristic of his 
countrymen. One large body of his forces sailed up the 
river Loire, and destroyed the cathedral of St. Marlio 
of Tours, the same patron of whose rigid exactions Clovis 
4 VOL. 1. 4th Ser. 



74 INVASION OF ROLLO. 

foniieily complained, and whose shrine had been enriclied 
in propurtion to liis popularity. Anotlier body, com- 
manded by Rollo in person, ascended the Seiue, took 
the city of Rouen, and treating the inliabitants wiili mode- 
ration, fixed tlieir head-quarters there, and deposited 
within its walls the spoil which they accumulated fjoin al! 
parts of the province of Neustria, of which Rouen is the 
caj)ital. 

Charles the Simple, though courageous enough in his 
person, was, according to the indolent habits of his race, 
desirous of putting a stop to this peril by composition 
rather than by battle. He made a truce with the Norman 
prince, In order, as he pretended, to give time for a more 
solid peace. But by the advice of Richard, Duke of 
Burgundy, Charles broke the truce lie had himself made, 
and engaged in hostilities. Rollo was defeated near 
Chartres, owing, it is said, to the excitation given to the 
French by the appearance of the Bishop of Chartres, in 
front of tlie battle, in his episcopal robes,* and holding in 
his hand the supposed veil of the Virgin. After the bat- 
tle, the victors drew a circumvallation around a hill to 
which Rollo had retreated with the remainder of his army. 
But the Norman was not without his resource. He 
alarmed the camp of the French by a charge blown near 
to their bulwarks at the dead of night, and while the be- 
siegers were run^ning about in terror and disorder, the 
Norman prince cut his way through them, and his army 
being greatly reinforced, soon found the. means of mak- 
ing more merciless havoc than he had done before the 
truce. 

Charles was now obliged to resume his negotiations 
with the Norinan prince, with more good faith than for- 
niorly. Using the Bishop as an ambassador, he suggested 
to Rollo, that if he consented to embrace tlie Christian 
religion, and assume the character of a loyal vassal, the 
king was willing to confer upon him as a fief the fertile 
province hitherto called Neustria. This princely district 
Charl'Hs proposed as the dowery of his daughter Gisele, 



ROLLO MADE DUKE OF NORMANDY, iO 

who was to become tne wife of RoUo, although she was 
only len or twelve years old, and her redoubted bride- 
groom fifty years at least. Rollo accepted of these fa- 
vourable terms, with the sole addition, that as Neustria, 
the name of which he chan^^ed to Normandy, was ex- 
hausted by his previous ravages, he stipulated that part 
of Bretagne, or Brittany, should be assigned to him in 
the interim, for the more easy support of liis army. Rollo 
adopted tlie Christian faith with sufficient decency, and 
at the font exciianged the heathen name of Rollo for that 
of Robert. But wlien the new Duke was to receive in- 
vestiture of Normandy from Charles, his pride was startled 
at the form, which required him, in acknowledgment of 
tlie favour bestowed on him, to kneel to his liege lord, and 
kiss his foot. " My knee shall never bend to mortal," 
said the haughty Norman ; " and I will be, on no account, 
persuaded to kiss the foot of any one whatever." The 
French counsellors present suggested that thiii difficulty 
might be surmif^unted by Rollo, or Robert, appointing a 
deputy to kiss, in his name, the foot of Charles, Ac- 
cordingly, the Duke commanded a common t'oldier to 
perform the ceremony in his stead. The man showed 
the small value he attached to the ceremony, by the 
careless and disrespectful manner in which he performed 
it. Instead of kneeling to salute the royal foot, he caught 
it up and performed the ceremony by lifting it to hij 
mouth. In this awkward operation, the rude Norman 
well-nigh overturned the simple ?ving. throne and all, and 
exposed him to the laughter of all around. 

The essentials of the treaty were more satisfactorily 
settled.- Rollo entered upon his new dominions, and 
governed them with the strictest justice, becoming, from 
a fierce and lawless pirate, a w-ise and beneficent prince. 
He was so severe in the execution of robbers, the multi- 
tude of uiiom was one of the great abuses of his time, 
that at engiii, it is said, rings of gold were exposed pub- 
licly in waste places, without incurring the least risk thai 
any one should take them away. The very exclamation 



76 SETTLEMENT OF NORMANU'S. 

of the name of Raou., or RoUo,* was, long after tlie good 
prince's death, uttered by persons who were suffering 
what they conceived to be injustice. Hence the -frequent 
repetition of " Haro! and Well away !" as expressions of 
sorrow, in our ancient authors. The Norman followers 
of Rollo were also converted to the Christian creed, and 
reclaimed from the errors of paganism. They abandoned 
the bloody ritual of their own ancient faith, without losing 
any part of the dauntless courage and contempt of death 
which it inspired. Tliey also received readily such ideas 
of honour as the French began to entertain, which after- 
wards led to the system of chivalry ; and under that 
process we shall soon see the Normans distinguished for 
the eagerness with which they tempered their courage and 
contempt of danger with tlie high-minded metaphysics 
of Love and Honour. This is easily understood, if we 
consider, that the hardest pebbles are most fit to receive 
the highest polish. 

The state of Normandy, thus established in independ- 
ence, save the uncertain allegiance of its Duke being a 
crown vassal to the sovereign of France, was destined, a 
century afterwards, to give a dynasty of kings to England, 
and has been rendered illustrious by producing as many 
men of courage and gallantry as have ever adorned any 
country of the world. 

The unfortunate Charles the Simple was so sunk in 
Indolence, that he added to his other vteaknesses that of 
throwing himself and his affairs into the hands of a gen- 
tleman named Haganon, of moderate birth, and as mode- 
rate talents. To this obscure and unworthy favourite 
Charles was so obviously and extravagantly attached, that 
I'he Duke of Saxony said, " Surely these men are so 
much united, that by and by they will be equal in con- 

* Pronouncerl Haro, which shows, that the strict course of justice for 
which this duke of Normandy was famous, had commenced liefore he had 
adopted the Christian name of Robert, flare is the word still used in ihf 
.'iourls of Jersey and Guernseyj when a judgment is complained of, and an 
ap;)eal entered. 



DEATH OF CHARLES THE SIMPLE. 77 

dition, either by Haganon becoming a king, like Ciiarles 
or Charles a private gentleman, like Haganon." 

This unworthy attachment was the source of various 
rebellions, in repressing which, Charles showed himself 
to advantage, as a man of action, killing with liis own 
hand one of his most formidable competitors. But in 
counsel he was as rash and impolitic as ever. His reign 
was disturbed, not only by the invasion of bands of Nor- 
mans, whom the Duke of Normandy's success had drawn 
to the shores of France by shoals, but that of Hungari- 
ans, or Bulgarians, a people descended from the ancient 
Huns. These barbarians were guilty of great cruelty; 
leavinga terrible impression upon the minds of the French, 
which is said to survive in the nursery tales concerning 
the cannibals called Ogres, the origin of which is to be 
found in the atrocities of the Bulgarians, or Huns, of the 
ninth and tenth centuries. 

At length, amidst these disasters, the simple King 
Charles intrusted himself in the power t)f a treacherous 
subject, Hebert, Count of Vermandois, one of his over- 
grown vassals, who, after a show of great respect, seized 
upon his person, and imprisoned him in the Castle of 
Peronne. Here he is at length supposed to have been 
murdered. 

Rodolph succeeded Charles, who, as regards the line 
of Charlemagne, may be termed a usurper, for he was 
not descended from that emperor. He filled the throne 
for fourteen years of perpetual war and tumult, which his 
talents, though considerable, were unequal to subdue 
effectually. (A. D. 936.) 

Charles the Simple had left a child, Louis by name, 
who, upon his fatl)er's death, had been transjjorted to 
iCngland by his mother, Ogene, or Theagine, who was an 
English woman, born soon after Rodolph's death. He 
received encouragement to return and assume the, throne 
nf France, when he became distinguished by the title of 
Louis d'Outremer, or from beyond sea. Like his predcj-- 
cessors he was involved in the quarrels and intrigues of 



78 DESCENT OF HUGO THE GREAT. 

the Dukes and Counts, ^A ho were too mightj subie s to 
endure tlie supremacy of the Crown, and whom he coujd 
only rule by tlie poHcy of stirring up one against tlie other. 
Louis was called from the scene of dissension by his death, 
occasioned by his horse falling while at full speed, in pur- 
suit of a wolf. (A. D. 954.) 

It was now supposed that the Crown, or at least great 
part of its remaining authority, would be seized on by 
Hugo, the Duke of France, called the Great, who had 
been one of those potent vassals with whom Louis d'Ou- 
tremer had been repeatedly at war during his life. It is 
certain that this peer, then the most -powerful in Francs, 
was descended from Robert, called the Strong, who 
flourished in the ninth century. Flattery, for the gratifi- 
cation of his descendants, has invented several genealo- 
gies for this person, one of which connects him with 
Charlemagne, though by an illegitimate branch. 'It is 
more certain that his successors rose to great consequence^ 
His eldest son, Ehjdes, distingliished at the siege of Paris, 
was afterwards chosen King of Aquitaine, and was pro- 
claimed King of Western France, in 888 ; but his line 
was extinguished in the person of his son Rodolph. The 
second son of Robert the Strong, was that Robert IL, 
Duke of France, who made war against Charles the 
Simple, and whom that monarch is said to have slain with 
his own hand. The grandson of Robert L, and son of 
Robert H., was this Hugo, called the Great, Duke of 
France and Burgundy, and Count of Paris. He had va- 
rious disputes with Louis the Ultramarine, so that, as we 
have hinted, it was expected by many that at his death 
the Duke would have seized on the crown, which had 
l>een worn by his uncle Eudes. But Duke Hugo, as was 
projihesied of Banquo, was destined, though he never 
wore the crown himself, to be father of the powerful 
family of Bourbon, so distinguished in past ages for their 
power, and in our own for their misfortunes. 

The Duke Hugo, of whom we have spoken, folhjwed 
the dictates of principle rather than ambition. He took 
up the cause of Louis's son Lothaire, a boy of about 



WAR WITH GERMANy. 79 

fourteen }"ears old, and conducted hirn to Rheims, wliera 
ne directed the ceremony of his coronation, and aftei'wards 
deported himself" in every respect as a dutiful subject. 
He defeated the Count of Poitiers in a decisive battle, 
and gave a sharp lesson of submission to the great vas- 
•sals who miglit be disposed to rebel against the king. In 
the subsequent year he died, leaving behind him four 
sons. The eldest, Hugo, was distinguished from his 
/ather of the same name, by the surname of Capet, 
(or Caput,) but whether from the unusual size of his 
head, or the extent of his powers of understanding, is 
somewhat uncertain. The brothers of Hugo Capet were 
Otho, Eudes, and Henry, wiio were successively Dukes 
of Burgundy. For Hugo himself, fate reserved a fairer 
diadem. 

Lothaire, sensible of the father's merits, received the 
sons into favour, and acknowledged them as successors in 
the fiefs of the great Hugo. But he embroiled himself 
in a quarrel with Duke Kichard, of Normandy, the second 
successor of Rollo, or Robert I., in that almost independ- 
ent princii)ality ; and, by advice of Theobald, Count of 
Chartres, called the Tiickster, endeavoured to overreach 
him by inviting him to an interview. Duke Richard com- 
plied wltli the invitation without hesitation, and set out 
on his journey to the place appointed. He was met by 
two knights of tlie Count of Chartres, who, pitying his 
unsuspicious loyalty, gave him indirect notice of the 
design against his person, by asking him, whether he was 
tired of his ducal coronet, and had a mind to become a 
shepherd. Duke Richard, taking the hint which this 
question conveyed, rewarded the knights who gave it, 
bestowing on the one a gold chain which he wore, and 
on the other his sword. He instantly returned to Rouen, 
and took up arms against the treacherous king, obtaining 
such succours from his original country of Denmark, as 
soon brought Lothaire to request a peace, which wa.> 
made accordingly. 

Another war broke out between Lothaire, King of 
Francp, and Otho, Emperor of Germany. Lothaire 



80 PEATH OF LOUIS THE FAINEANT. 

showed, in the commencement, both spirit and activity. 
He marched with such rapidity upon Aix-la-Cbapelle, 
tl)at he had nearly made the Emperor prisoner, vvho fledj 
leaving liis dinner ready prepared and placed on the table. 
Otho, to revenge this insult, invaded France with sixty 
thousand men, and advanced to the gates of Paris, send- 
ing word to Hugh Capet, count of the city, that he would 
cause a mass to be sung on the summit of Mont JMartre, 
by so many voices, that the Count should hear the sound 
in the Isle of Paris. The King of France and Hugo 
Capet revenged this insult by a rapid movement to the 
relief of Paris, and defeated the Germans with very great 
slaughter. A nephew of Otho, who had sworn (for 
oaths of chivalry vt'ere then becoming fashionable) to 
strike his lance into the gate of Paris, was slain in the^ 
battle. But Lothaire lost the fruit of this victory by 
acceding to a peace, which disappointed the hopes of his 
subjects, and especially of the army, elated by victory. 
Conscious of a loss of reputation, he endeavoured to 
strengthen himself in the love and affection of his subjects, 
by raising to be the partner of his throne his son Louis, 
known by the discreditable title of the Faineant, or 
Foolish. But Lothaire was not permitted to receive any 
benefit, if such could accrue, from such a stroke of poli- 
cy, as he died at Rheinis immediately afterwards, and no* 
without the suspicion of poison. (A. D. 987.) 

Louis, called the Faineant, did nothing which could be 
termed inconsistent with his name. He quarrelled with 
the queen, and wellnigh engaged in a new war with Ger- 
many. But before he had reigned fourteen months, he 
died under the same suspicion of poison which attached 
to his father's demise. This weak and unhappy prince 
was the last of the Cailovingian race, which had occu- 
pied the throne of France for upwards of two hundred 
and thirty years. 



REIGN OF HUGO CAPET. 81 



CHAPTER VI. 

Causes which led to the Third Change of Dynasty — 
Accession and Reign of Hugo Capet, son of Mvgo 
the Great — Reign of Robert the Wise — Dissensions 
hetxveen Robert's Sons — Accession of Henry I. — Pil- 
grimage of Robert Duke of JVormandy to the Holy 
Land — His son William (afterxvards the Conqueror 
of England ) left at the Head of the Government oj 
JVormandy — War between JVormandy and France — 
Defeat of the French at Mortemart — Pacif cation 
between the two Countries — Death of Henry I. 

You must keep in memory, that since the institution of 
the government of France as a monarchy, two races of 
kings had existed. The Long-haired monarchs, or kings 
of the Merovingian race, who sank under the rising for- 
tunes of Pepin and Charlemagne, were the first dynasty. 
The Carlovingian race, deriving the ti%le from Charles 
the Great, which superseded that of Merovreus, and 
reigned in his stead, constituted the second. The third 
change of dynasty, which took place at the death of Louis 
le Faineant, may be attributed to causes which shall be 
shortly touched upon, 

1. Under neither of these dynasties was the right of 
hereditary succession so well defined and understood as it 
was latterly. The brother often succeeded to a deceased 
monarch, instead of his son, without reference to the de- 
gree of propinquity to the last king. After the deposi- 
tion of the Merovingian line, the Bull of Pope Zachari- 
ns, which assigned the royalty to the race of Pepin, 
enjoined the French in future, in choosing their emperor 
to select him exclusively from the race of the chosen 
candidate, to whose family it stood limited. This limi- 
tation, however, did not establish a strict hereditary line 
of succession, for, as understood in practice, it was sufE- 
945 



62 DECAY OF THE CARLOVINGlAN KINGS. 

ciently adhered to, provided the candidate for sovereignly 
was of the race of Pepin or Char'einaojic ; so that the 
empire lay o^oen as an object of temptation fo- all who 
boasted a descent from the chosen family, however dis- 
tant from the right of succession in a direct line. The 
consequence was, that as the covetous eyes of so many 
orinces were fixed on the same tempting object, the want 
of a regular and fixed rule of inheritance occasioned great 
disputes, which led to the repeated division and subdivi- 
sion of the royal dominions, not only weakening the body 
of the empire, but often terminating in bloody civil wars, 
hy which it was still farther torn to pieces. 

II. Tlie empire of Charlemagne, comprehended a huge 
mass of territory, extending from the Tiber to the Elbe, 
and from the Pyrenean mountains to the borders of Hun- 
gary, consisting of many nations, diifering in descent, 
laws, language, and manners whom chance and the abil- 
ities of one individual bud unif^d for a time under one 
government, but which had an internal propensity to fall 
asunder so soon as the great mind which held them 
together was removed. Hence, it was not long before 
the kingdom of prance was separated from that of Italy, 
and from the empire, latterly so called, of Germany. 

III. The grants which were made to the great officers 
of state, and vassals of the crown, had their natural influ- 
ence in impoverishing the monarchs of France ; so that, 
during the reign of the two or three last monarchs of 
the Cariovingian line, almost every considerable city in 
the kingdom was in possession of some duke, count or 
baron, who collected revenue from it, excepting only 
Laon and Rheims, and some family estates, which the 
kirfgs possessed on the same footing, and managed in the 
same manner, as they would have been administered by 
private individuals. 

The Cariovingian family bemg reduced to so low an 
ebb in point of power and wealth, it was not to be won- 
dered at, if the nobility of France resolved to fill the 
Shrone with some more powerful prince. Charles, Duke 
of Lorraine was, no doubt, the brother of Lothaire, and 
4* 



HUGO CAPET CHOSEN KINO OF FRANCE 83 

the next heir, therefore, to Louis le Faineant, his deceas- 
ed nephew. But he was far inferior in talents to Hugo 
Capet, who had long been esteemed the first man of the 
kingdom in point of wealth, the second probably in point 
of rank, and the first in actual power. He was Duke of 
Burgundy and Aquitaine, Count of Paris and Orleans, 
and in addition to tl)ese dignities, bore even the title of 
Duke of France, though antiquaries do not fully state ihe 
import of this last title. He brought far more wealth to 
the crown of France, than he could inherit by succeed- 
ing to it, and he was known to his contemporaries as the 
best general and wisest statesman of his time. Hugo 
Capet availed himself so well of these advantages, that, 
on the death of Louis le Faineant, he assembled the 
states of the kingdom, consisting probably of the princi- 
pal crown vassals, with the bishops and prelates, and by 
unanimous assent was chosen King of France. 

With a yiew, probably, to establish the security of the 
crown in his own family, Hugo Capet, who had already 
been successful against some of the lords who had refused 
him their allegiance, proposed to associate his son Robert 
in the same dignity, and obtained the assent of the 
States to that association. Having thus, as far as human 
prudence could command the future, done his best to 
secure the crown in his fan)ily, Hugo Capet laid aside 
the royal state and kingly attire, and lived simply and 
modestly, as before his accession to the throne. Charles 
of Lorraine, the Carlovingian heir to the crown, attempt- 
ed, though tardily, to vindicate the succession, but was 
surprised and made prisoner by the elected monarch ; 
and being thrown into prison at Orleans, was detained 
there till his death. The son of Cliarles succeeded him 
m the Duchy of Lorraine, but died without male issue ; 
and in his person, the legitimate succession of the 
renowned Charlemagne became extinct. (A. D. 99L) 

The head of the new race of kings behaved wiih a 
wisdom and steadiness which tended to secure the suc- 
cession of his family ; for though brave men may gain 
kingdoms, it is wise men only who can transmit them to 



64 REIGN OF ROBERT THE WISE* 

tlieir lineage. Hugo Capet bent his mind to soothe all 
discontents, and to please every class of his subjects. He 
flattered and gratified the clergy by resigning 'to them 
such abbeys as he possessed, and induced many of his 
nobles to follow his example, for which he was highly 
lauded by the church. 

As a wise man, he saw the danger arising to :he king- 
dom from the independent state of the turbulent nobility ; 
but he saw, also, that the evil was too great to be reme- 
died, and was contented to confine himself to slow and 
temporising measures. He demanded little more from 
the crown vassals than the homage, which, while he lim- 
ited his claim to it, they had no interest to refuse, and while 
he encouraged them to weaken each other by intestine 
wars, he determined silently to await the time when by 
degrees the power of the crown should rise upon their 
ruins. The spirit of the present race of nobles was such 
as would have endured no control ; for when Audibert, 
Vicomte of Periguex, laid siege to the city of Tours, and 
the king wrote to him commanding him to desist, asking 
him reproachfully who had made him vicomte, the feudal 
chief replied with scorn it was those who had made Ca- 
pet king ; and persevered in his attack upon Tours, in 
defiance of the royal mandate. The monarch passed 
over an insult which he had not sufficient power to 
revenge. 

By a rare mixture of wisdom and firmness, this king 
transmitted to his family a throne to which he had no 
hereditary right, with little opj)osiiion, and almost without 
bloodshed. (A. D. 996.) He died, leaving his dominions 
in perfect tranquillity, after a reign of eight years. 

Robert, son of Hugo Capet, long associated with his 
father, was now sole king. He followed in all respects 
the sagacious and prudent measures of his predecessor, 
who had bred him up to an ultimate acquaintance wilh 
his far-sighted and calm policy. From tlie steadiness of 
bis conduct, the new king acquired the distinction of 
The Wise. 



ROBERT SUt;CEEDS HUGO CAPET. 85 

For securing the succession, in particular, Robert fol- 
owed his lather's policy, which seems for some time to 
have been pecuhar to the Capet familyj at least to their 
earher princes. He caused his son Hugh to be joined in 
the government, and he having died without issue, 
Robert's second son, Henry, was crowned in the same 
manner, ten years after. By this provision, the chance 
of an alteration in the succession was much diminished, 
since the lineal successor was placed in possession of the 
regal power before the death of his predecessor, and so 
might instantly assume the reigns of government when 
that e\'ent took place. 

The peace of Robert was somewhat disturbed by the 
political intrigues of his two successive queens, to whose 
ambition he appears to have given more free course than 
consisted with the prudence of his character in other re- 
spects. He had also some trouble from the disobedience 
of his sons ; but these were only passing disturbances, 
and soon appeased. 

The reputation of Robert for wisdom and justice stood 
so high, that the Emperor of Germany having some dis- 
pute with the Count of Flanders, and others of his vas- 
sals, both parties agreed to refer them to the decision of 
the King of France. Upon this business the two princes 
had a meeting on the banks of the Meuse. In these un- 
happy times, such meetings had, from infidelity on the 
one part or the other, often ended in assassination. The 
ministers on both sides had accordingly adjusted articles 
of meeting in person, by which it was proposed, that the 
two pnnces should leave the opposite sides of the river, 
and meet at the same moment in the middle. But the 
generous emperor, confident in the character of King 
Robert, set ceremony and suspicion at defiance, and, 
crossing the Meuse without scruple, surprised the King of 
France with a visit in his camp. After thus dispensing 
with all etiquette, the business in dependence was settled 
to the satisfaction of all parties. 

Two years after this interview, the good Einjieror, 



B6 REIGN OF ROBERT THE WISE 

Henry died, and was succeeded in his German dominions 
by Conrade, Duke of Worms. The Itahan suhjects of 
Henry by no mea'-.s wished to share tlie same fate, and 
intimated their desire to submit themselves to the King 
of France, to whom accordingly they offered the imperi- 
al crown, and the kingdom of Italy. But Robert, thougli 
this acquisition of another fair portion of Constantine's 
empire was a brilliant and tempting offer, perceived at 
the same time he should, by accepting it, be hurried into 
a German war, for the sake of a territory separated from 
France by the line of the Alps, and by no means likely 
to form either an obedient or a useful part of that kingdom. 
He therefore wisely rejected the dominion offered to him, 
considering it preferable to increase his influence by the 
improvement of his kingdom at home, than to expend its 
strength in the task of making himself master of impos- 
ing but useless and unprofitable acquisitions of foreign 
territories. 

King Robert's domestic government was of the same 
judicious and moderate character which distinguished his 
foreign politics. He used his royal power for the bene- 
fit of his subjects, and protected the lower and oppressed 
part of them, as much as the temper of the times per- 
mitted. His private charity was so extensive, that up- 
wards of a thousand poor persons dined at his expense 
every day, and, in the excess of his royal humility, were, 
notwithstanding their disgusting rags and sores, permitted 
to apjH'oach his person. It is pretended he used to exer- 
cise upon them the supposed gift, claimed afterwards both 
by the Kings of France and England, of curing the dis- 
ease; called the king's evil, by their touch and their pray- 
ers. King Robert I. of France died universally regret- 
ted In 1031. 

Upon the death of Robert I., the line of Capet began 
to show some symptoms of the dissension which had 
brought to ruin those of Merovseus and of Charles the 
Great. The succession ' of Henry, the eldest sen and 
"ightful heir of Robert, was disputed by his younger 
orother Robert. He was encouraged by his mother, who 



DEATH OF ROBERT THE WISE. 87 

had always hated Henry, and by several powerful nobles, 
who were probably unwilling that in another reign 
resembling in mocleration and firmness that of Robert 1., 
the crown should again obtain the advantage which such 
a tranquil period afforded the king over his nobility. 

Robert took his measures so suddenly, and was so well 
supported, that Henry, with a retinue of only ten or 
eleven persons, was fiiin to save himself from captivity, 
by flying to the country of Robert, then Duke of Nor- 
mandy, for protection. He was received in the strong 
castle of Fescanip, and the duke, discharging the duty 
of a faithful vassal, raised all. his forces in defence of his 
liege lord, against the traitorous attempts of his younger 
brother. The Duke of Normandy advanced into France 
with his forces, and ravaged the country with such 
extreme severity, that he obtained for himself the nick- 
name of Robert h Diable, or Robin the Devil, which 
gave rise to several fabulous legends, by which minstrels 
and romancers attempted to account for the origin of so 
strange an ejjithet. The two armies were on the point 
of enirasinii in a decisive conflict, when Robert, returning 
to a sense of duty, thought it better to submit to his elder 
brother, than run the risk of so great a crime as that of 
slaying him. He submitted accordingly, and was reward 
ed with the Duchy of Burgundy, after which the broth- 
ers lived in concert together. Duke Robert of Normandy 
was rewarded with a considerable accession of territory, 
so that the strife between the brothers, though brief, was 
attended with the usual consequences of weakening the 
crown. 

Henry 1., however, did not lose any opportunity which 
events offered of strengthening his throne. Disturbances 
arose concerning part of Burgundy, next to Mount Jura, 
which was separate from the portion assigned to the 
king's brother Robert, as above noticed. In the course 
of the wars which ensued, many forfeitures were made, 
and the reunion of the fiefs so forfeited with the crown, 
served to repair the losses it had sustained iii the war 
between the brothers. 



88 REIGN OF HENRY I. 

Neither (iid Henry I. fail to avail himself of troubles 
tvhich arose in Normandy, although he owed a great debl 
of gratitude to the Duke whose timely aid had, as we 
have seen, replaced him on the throne. This prince, ad- 
vancing now in age, began to think of making amends for 
those violent actions which had in the war procured him 
the title of Robin the Devil. For" this purpose, as was 
the custom of that superstitious period, he conceived no 
mode of penitence could be so effectual as to go on a pil- 
grimage to Palestine, called the Holy Land. The desire 
to see the scenes of miracles, and sufferings the most 
momentous which could be undergone, was sufficiently 
rational, and they might no doubt be often visited with 
effectual advantage to the pilgrim, since we can never be 
so much disposed to devotion as when we are placed in 
the very localities where such events have actually passed. 
But to forsake the moral duties which we are called to 
discharge, and to ramble over strange countries, neglect- 
ing the subjects, families, or whomsoever else have been 
designed by Providence to rely on our active exertions 
for support, is gross superstition, not rational religion. 
At this early period, however, the idea prevailed, thai 
men obtained by their toils, in such a journey, not only 
pardon for past faults, but indulgence for such as they 
should commit in future. 

Duke Robert of Normandy, then, prepared for his pil-. 
gimage to Jerusalem. Previous to his departure, he as- 
sembled a council of his prelates and high vassals ; for you 
cannot have forgotfen, that, like all other feudatories of 
France, that prince had his own country divided among 
vassals, who held of him by the same tenure by which he 
held his duchy of the King of France. He placed before 
!.he assembly a son of his own, not born in lawful wed- 
lock, but the child of a woman named Arlotta. This 
was the famous William, afterwards Conqueror of Eng- 
land. This youth was of so fair a person, and such 
promising talents, that his father, notwitlistanding his 
illegitimacy, desired he should succeed him as his heir in 
•^^he dnkedom. He preivailed on the states of Normandy 



I'lLGRIMAGE TO THE HOLY LAND. 69 

10 recognise William in this capacity, recommended l.im 
to the protection of Henry of France, and Alan, Duke of 
Bretagne, and having thus provided for his succession, he 
set off upon his pilgrimage, from which he never re- 
turned. 

William, the future Conqueror of England, was thus 
early put in a conspicuous situation, and was thereby ex- 
posed to misfortunes and dangers, which undoubtedly 
contributed to mature and exercise those qualities which 
form the character of a great man. His feudal vassals, 
no longer restrained by the authority of the duke himself, 
took advantage of the minority of the sovereign to enter 
into feuds with each ether, to raise troops, fortify castles, 
and levy wars at their own pleasure, without awaiting the 
consent of William, or regarding his prohibition. On the 
other hand, King Henry, taking advantage of these trou- 
bles, invaded the Norman frontiers, burnt the town of Ar- 
genton, and demolished the Castle of Thilleres, under 
pretext that it ought not to have been fortified without 
his consent, as liege lord and paramount. William, or 
rather those who acted in his behalf, beset with dangers 
on every side, thought it best to accommodate these quar- 
rels with the King of France, even at some sacrifices ; 
and thus for a time secured the alliance and countenance 
of Henry I. 

It was time, indeed, to acquire some effectual support, 
for a considerable number of malecontent Norman lords 
had formed a league against Duke- William, and had raised 
an army amounting to twenty-five thousand men, having 
for its head, Guy of Franche Compte. The united forces 
of King Henry and the young Duke William, which to- 
gether did not exceed three thousand men, marched 
against the insurgents. They engaged the opposing 
forces near Caen, at a place called F^al de Dimes. Kinii 
Henry was unhorsed by a Norman knight, and nearly 
slain ; he was rescued, however, and gained adecis've vie 
tory, in which very many of the insurgents weie killed 
Wiiliam, whose subjects were completely reduced to obo 



9U NORMAN INSURRECTION SURPRIStO. 

dieiice, reaped all the advantage of this war. But Henry 
soon alter engaged in other quarrels and discussions, by 
which new dissensions were created in Normandy.- These 
disputes he wilfully fostered, with the view of diminish- 
ing the strength of this overgrown vassal, which he looked 
upon as dangerous to the crown. He was not deterred 
from this interference by the assistance faithfully and loy- 
ally rendered him by Duke William, in his quarrel with 
Stephen and Theobald, two sons and successors of Eudes, 
Count of Champagne, or by the recollection that the 
Duke of Normandy had involved himself in those quar- 
rels, purely to serve him. On the contrary, Henry showed 
either an enmity against William's person, or a jealousy 
of his power, which he took the following method to 
manifest : — First, he engaged William of Normandy in a 
quarrel with Godefroy, Count of Anjou, called by the 
formidable name of Martel, and thus involved these two 
great feudatories in a war which must necessarily operate 
to the diminution of the strength of both. 

When the Duke of Normandy extricated himself from 
this struggle also with reputation and advantage, he be- 
came the object of the unconcealed jealousy and displea- 
sure of the French king, who then publicly espoused 
the cause of William of Arques, Count of Toulouse, who 
laid claim to the duchy of Normandy, as son of Duke 
Richard II., and therefore rightful heir to. the crown, on 
account of William's illegitimacy. Henry accordingly en- 
tered Normandy with a strong army to dispossess the 
young friend, with whom he had been so lately in alliance. 
But William was now of an age to display his wisdom and 
courage. (A. D. 1054.) By a rapid and sudden night 
attack near Mortemart, and a severe battle on the follow- 
ing day, he worsted the French army, with the loss often 
thousand men. This, followed by other severe checks, 
induced Henry to consent to peace. Cordiality, however, 
oever was restored between William and the king ; and, 
in those mutual feuds, first began -that enmity which cost 
so many bloody wars between the descendants of Henry, 



CHARACTER OF HENRY 1. .91 

King of France, and of William, whose posterity suc- 
ceeded him as kings of England. 

After his pacification with the Duke oi iVormandy^ 
Henry turned himself to that which was a favourite piece 
of policy in the House of Capet. We have already ex- 
plained, that this was the association of a successor in 
the throne, in order to secure stability in the royal suc- 
cession. Philip, the eldest of Henry's sons, was raised, 
at the early age of seven years, to share the throne of his 
father, who died in the same year, leaving his son under 
the guardianship of Baldwin of Flanders, called, from his 
worth and religion, the Pious. (A. D. 1060.) Henry left 
behind him a tolerably fair character, except in regard to 
his Machiavellian intrigues to diminish the power of his 
great vassals. It is true, the precarious situation of the 
kings of France had, for some time, suggested such a pol- 
icy ; but in following it, Henry I. trampled not only upon 
the %'irtue of justice, but of gratitude. 



CHAPTER VH. 

Minority of Philip — Origin of Chivalry — Training oj 
the young Knights — Ceremony of conferring Knight- 
hood — Duties of those who acquired that honour — ■ 
Devotion to the Fair Sex-^Wager of Battle — Tour- 
naments — Chivalry took its rise in France — Its Insti- 
tutions were speedily adopted by the JVormans, who 
found, a Field for the exercise of their valour in the 
Wars of Italy — Bravery and Conquests of the Guis- 
cards — Battle of Durazzo. 

It is necessary to say little more of the minority of 
Philip, than that, for a country so disturbed as France, it 
passed with little interruption of the public peace. This 
was chiefly owing to the wise government of Count Bald- 
ivin, who remained always upon his guard against treachery 
{rem every quarter, taking care, at the same time, to giv« 



92 MINORITY OF PHILIP. 

no pretence for such practices, by offending any of the 
great nobles. The Gascons indeed, a people of a fiery 
and changeable disposition, at one period meditated a re- 
volt. But the Count of Flanders, raising a considerable 
force, under pretence of threatened invasion by the Sar- 
acens, led an army so suddenly into Aquitaine, as to 
render their design abortive. 

But although France had, in its interior, little materials 
for history during this period, enterprises were undertaken 
by individuals ivho emigrated from thence during the reign 
of Henry I. and the minority of Philip, which strike the 
mind with astonishment, considering the important effects 
produced by the desperate courage of a kw men. The 
ruling character of the agents, in the extraordinary efforts 
which 1 am about to relate to you, requires now to be 
stated. It was in many respects different from the prin- 
ciples by which mere barbarians are guided, but varied no 
less from those views and notions which direct civilized 
nations. 

On this account it becomes necessary, perhaps, to look 
far back into the commencement of society, to find the 
original germ of that system of chivalry, which occasioned 
so many marvellous actions during the middle ages, and, 
in some important particulars, still preserves its effects 
apon our present manners. 

The origin of the institution of knighthood, being the 
basis of chivalry, may be easily traced. The warriors of 
the ancient Gallic tribes, who fought on horseback, and 
were more highly esteemed than the infantry, were 
teimed, by the Romans, Equites, or horsemen, a rank of 
soldiery possessing considerable precedence over others. 
The Germans approached the modern ideas of knighthood 
more closely. The youth was not accounted fit for shar- 
ing the councils of his tribe, until the age of twenty-one 
years was attained, when, certain ceremonies being used, 
he was brought into the' public assembly, investea with 
arms resembling those of iiis elder brethren ; and, in short, 
admitted to all the privileges of an adult warrior. The 
period of his admission into the councils of the freemen 



ORIGIN OF CHIVALRY. 93 

and warriors of the nation, added, of consequence, to the 
young man's importance, and quahfied him to act as a 
chief and principal in war, where his services hitlierto 
had been only used as a private soldier and follower. 

These regulations led to the establishment of an order 
of champions among the Franks, and other German na- 
tions, who had achieved settlements in Gaul, or France, 
as it was now called. Those who were ambitious to dis- 
tinguish tliemselves by military fame, which comprehend- 
ed, speaking generally, almost all who held fiefs, whethei 
of the sovereign or the subjects, or who were otherwise 
entitled to the name of freemen, were carefully educated 
m horsemanship, the use of the lance and sword, man- 
agement of the horse, and other warlike exercises. Dur- 
ing this training, the young men, who were for the time 
called pages, resided as a part of the household of some 
king, noble, or man of rank, whose family was supposed 
to be a school of military discipline. When arrived at a 
certain age, the page, as able to support tlie duties of war, 
became an esquire, and waited immediately upon his lord 
in battle, or during travel, serving him as a close and con- 
fidential attendant, and always ready to peril his life for 
him. This, though a species of servitude, was not reck- 
oned degrading ; but, on the contrary, the candidate for 
the highest honours of chivalry was not accounted worthy 
of them, until he liad shown, by the patient obedience of 
years as a squire, that he was worthy to command others 
in the capacity of a knight. When he was esteemed fit 
for the rank, the candidate was then dubbed knight. In 
the ceremony, some things were taken from the ancient 
mode of receiving the youths into the councils of the 
warriors, while their ancestors still inhabited the forests 
and swamps of Germany. A sword was girded around 
the aspirant's body ; spurs were bound upon his heels ; 
the person by whom the ceremony was performed, struck, 
the acolyto of chivalry on the shoulders with the flat 
Df his naked sword, and he was thus invested with a 
nigh military dignity, which, in a certain sense, placed 
liira, however poor, upon a level with the wealthiest auJ 



94 CEREMONY OF MAKING KNIGHTS. 

most powerful nobles ; for, in theory, all knight; were 
equal, except in so far as they excelled each other in 
military fame. Otiser ceiemonies were mingled with 
those we have mentioned, which had been introduced by 
the churchmen, who naturally desired to attach to a solem- 
nit) sostrikingsomethingconnected with the forms of relig- 
ion. In many cases, accordingly, the young knight watched 
his arms for the night in some church or chapel, and 
occupied himself in watching and prayer. He also took a 
solemn oath to protect, at his utmost risk, the cause of 
the Catholic religion ; to redress by his valour such 
wrongs, and abolish such evil customs as he might discover: 
an Herculean task, at the time when almost every dis- 
trict groaned under the tyranny of some petty despot, 
who oppressed the poor without their having any one to 
aj)peal to. The protection of widows and orphans, and 
of the female sex in all ranks of society, was also enjoin- 
ed. Lastly, fidelity to the king, chief, or lord, was sworn 
to by the young knight. By these means the order of 
knighthood was rendered in theory an association, bound 
by oath to forward tlie discharge of all the social duties 
which religion enjoined. It is not to be supposed that 
all, or many of the knights thus created, arrived even 
within a few points of the excellence which they were 
in this respect required to attain. Some, however, whose 
character in adhering to these vows, had recommended 
them to the age as very perfect examples of chivalry, ob- 
tained the general approbation of prince and people ; and 
he was most valued who exposed himself to the most ex- 
travagant dangers in thesupportof his character for courage. 
It cannot be denied, that while tlie institutions of chiv- 
alry gave an air of romantic dignity and grandeur to the 
manners of the age, while the system continued to flour- 
ish, stigmatizing all that was base and selfish, and encour- 
aging the knigh.ts, who would be held desirous of public 
applause, to seek it by exhibiting the purest fiiith, and 
the most undaunted courage, without being seduced from 
iheir purpose by the prospect of advantage, or deterred 
trom it bv the most alarming dangers, there mixed, nc\ 



DUTIES OF KNIGHTHOOD. 95 

ertheless, with these generous maxims, much tJiat was 
extravagant, wild, and sometimes absolutely ridiculous. 
Every knight, for example, wag expected to devote his 
affections to some fair lady, whom he was to serve for 
years, and with unaltered fidelity, although, perhaps, 
neither her rank in life, nor her inclinations, entitled him 
to expect any return of her affections; nay although the 
lady, having conferred her hand on some other person, 
could return his supposed passion with no other regard 
than gratitude might permit. All the deeds of valour 
which he performed, were supposed to be owing to the 
influence of this terrestrial goddess, and tlie champions 
wearied out their imaginations in outvying each other in 
the feats of arms which they did, or proposed to do, in 
the name of tlieir mistresses. 

The system of chivalry also involved the greBt error 
of intrusting the guardianship of almost all civil riirhts to 
the decision of the sword, so that it was scarcely possible 
for a man of low rank to obtain justice, unless he was 
prepared to figlit for it in the lists, or had some champion 
willing to fight in his cause. 

The very sports of chivalry involved the risk of life. 
The military exercises of tilts and tournaments in which 
they encountered each other with lances, each endeav- 
ouring to keep his own saddle, and at the same time to 
unhorse his antagonist, were their favourite pastime.^ On 
this occasion each knight supported the beauty and merit 
of sonie particular lady, the influence of whose charms 
was supposed to stimulate him to victory, as her fame 
was, on the other hand, extended by his success. Tliese 
warlike entertainments were the delight of the age, and 
though repeatedly prohibited by the cliurch as inhuman 
and unchristian, were solemnly practised, nevertlieles-i, at 
the courts of the different sovereigns of Europe, who 
displayed their magnificence in the splendour with which 
the feats of chivalry were perfurmed in their own pres- 
ence, while the ladies looked on from the bal(;onies, to 
grace the vic^tors with their applause. The oicounter 
professed to be a friendly one, and amicable trial in arms. 



96 TOURNAMENTS. 

and the combatants expressed the utmost regard for each 
other. But this did not prevent the hves of many brave 
champions being lost in the rough sport, which was 
rather a regular and modified kind of actual battle, than, 
as it professed to be, a mere imitation of war. 

It is certain that, from the respect towards the female 
sex enjoined by the laws of chivalry, our modern times 
have derived that courteous deference and respect for 
women, which assigns to the ladies in the cultivated 
countries of Europe, an importance in society so different 
from the state of degradation to which they are reduced 
in other quarters of the world. But it is more difficult 
to imagine how this high and romantic tone had been 
breathed into the institutions of the Franks while a bar- 
barous people. It is probable, that the origin may have 
been found in the institutions of the old Germans, which, 
as we before noticed, admitted the females of the tribe to 
a high degree of estln)ation ; and as they did not permit 
their youth to marry till twenty-one years complete, their 
young warriors were trained up in the habit of distant re- 
spect, awe, and veneration for those who were to be the 
companions of their future lives. 

There is no precise account of the origin of chivalry ; 
but there can be no doubt, that, considered under a mod- 
ern aspect, that remarkable system had its rise in France, 
to the natural manners of which country the gallantry 
and devotion to the fair sex which it dictated — not to 
mention a certain tone of national and personal vanity 
which it was well calculated to advance — were peculiarly 
congenial. 

In France, the young warrior, when admitted to the 
dignity of the new order, was called chevalier, that is, 
horseman, from cheval, a horse, the ancient name ofeques. 
translated into the language of the country, being seized 
upon to express the newly inaugurated knight. In Ger- 
mjiiiy, the equivalent term of ritter. or rider, was made 
use of. The origin of the English word kni8;ht, which 
bears the same meaning, is more doubtful. In the Anglo- 
Saxon language, where the meaning must be sought, 



CHIVALRY ADOPTED BY THF NORMANS. 9'i 

knecht signifies a servant, and was applied, by way o( 
distinction, to the select attendants on the prince (as wc 
still call a soldier a servant of the king) — a title readily 
transferred to the newly-dubbed cavalier, as expressing a 
chosen and trained warrior. The word does not, how- 
ever, present the idea of the origin of the institution so 
accurately as either the French or German word. Nor, 
although the order of chivalry rose to the highest esteem 
in Britain, do we suppose that it was, in a proper sense, 
known in that island, till, as you shall presently hear, it 
was brought thither by the Normans, who travelled in 
arms into various parts of Europe during the 11th cen- 
tury, overthrowing ancient kingdoms, establishing new 
ones, and outdoing, if that were possible, all the wonders 
and marvels of chivalrous romance, by the display tliey 
made of it in their own persons. 

The Normans, we have seen, had now, for a conside- 
rable time, been inhabitants of France, and established 
themselves in the province to which they gave their name. 
They had become softened, rather than corrupted oi 
subdued, by the advantages and luxuries of their new 
settlements. They still retained unimpaired the daring 
and desperate courage with whiclr their fathers had sallied 
from their frozen oceans to ravage and to conquer the 
domains of a milder climate ; but they exercised it with 
more humanity, inspired doubtless by their conversion to 
Christianity. The new institutions of chivalry were 
speedily adopted by a iiation which possessed already so 
many points in common with them. So brave a race, 
imbued from infancy with the principle that death was 
preferable, not only to flight, but to the manifestation of 
the least symptom of fear, thought little of the dangers 
which might have terrified others in the exercise of chiv- 
alry. Like other nations of the north also, the Normans 
had practised, ere they left their own climate, that reve- 
rentu'l and respectful conduct towards the female set, 
which was anotlier basis of chivalry. The tilt and toiT- 
Dfiy were, in the opinion of these warlike nations only a 



98 WARS OF ITALY, 

variation of their own combats with clubs ana swor'Fs, hi 
which the' pretence was sport, though often turned into 
earnest by the fury of tlie encounter. Above all, tlie 
more modern Normans united the utter carelessness of 
danger, and contempt of life, which characterised theii 
ancestors who fought under RoUo, with the gay valoui 
and love of adventure which was proper to the inliabit- 
ants of France, and which this race kept in practice by 
the cjuarrels of their duke with his sovereign of France^ 
and with his compeers, the great vassals of the cj'own. 
Chivalry flourished in so fertile a soil, and the Norman 
knights held the first rank among those of Europe. Such 
being their character, a part of this brave nation found 
sudden exercise for their feats of arms in the wars of Italy, 
where they made conquests which flattered their vanity, 
and gratified their love of glory. 

To understand this, you must be informed, that, after 
the descendants of Charlemagne had degenerated into 
feeble princes, the towns and coasts of Italy became di- 
vided between the Greeks (who reclaimed the possession 
of that fine country as the original seat of the empire, 
which was removed to Constantinople by Constaniine) 
and the Saracens. The various incursions of the latter 
people upon the Christian world had been set on foot for 
the purpose of conquering and converting the provinces 
which they invaded. They conquered Sicily, and colo- 
nized it. The dominions of the present kingdom of 
Naples next invited their arms, and a strong colony, for 
a long time maintained at Bari, placed the Adriatic gulf 
under the command of the naval power of die Saracens. 
Notwithstanding this, the Greeks, a politic and sagacious 
nation, contrived to recover Bari, and to establish their 
authority in a great part of the eastern half of Italy. 
Luxury, and its enervating consequences, had, however, 
rendered their armies very unfit to meet the eastern fana- 
tics. But the Empire of Constantinople still commanded 
the services of experienced and caqtious generals, and 
they supplied the deficiencies of their own troops by the 
daring courage of 1 'ranks, Lombards, and other barba- 



NORMAN AUXILIARIES. 99 

rians, whom they engaged in their cause. They were 
also masters of the art of negotiation, and httle scrupu- 
lous in keeping the terms which they had made, when 
an opportunity occurred of gaining an advantage, though 
at the expense of good faith. By such means, the 
Greeks maintained a doubtful struggle with the Saracens, 
which of them should obtain the exclusive possession of 
Italy. 

About this period the natives of Normandy, whose 
temper and habits we have described, began to think of 
amending their fortunes, by undertaking expeditions on 
their own account, to free the peninsula of Italy at once 
from the bondage of the Greeks and of the Saracens. 
The former they considered as effeminate tyrants, here- 
tics, also, as the Greek church holds some tenets different 
from that of Rome. As to the Saracens, their character 
of infidels was sufficient to render war against them not 
only lawful, but a religious and meritorious task. The 
first attempts of these Norman adventurers were under- 
taken with too great inferiority of numbers, to be deci- 
dedly successful. For a time they were only remarkable 
for their desperate courage, which displayed itself in 
behalf of Germans, Greeks, or even Saracens, who were 
best able to reward their exertions ; and it was observed 
that victory seemed to attend in every case the side on 
which they fought. Their numbers, however, were 
gradually inci'eased by additional recruits from their own 
country of Normandy, and by some Italians, who joined 
their ranks, on the condition of observing their customs, 
and emulating their valour. 

In the year 1029, the Normans in Italy assumed a 
more national appearance, and fixed their head-quarters 
at Aversa, a town conferred on them by the Duke of 
Naples. Here they lived under the government of 
counts, or chieftains, of their own election ; and, joining 
their forces with those of the Greek emperor, did much 
to achieve the reconqnest of Sicily. Being uni:ratefully 
i'e()uited by the Grecian general, Maniaces, the Normarrj 
idok arms to pu lish the ingratitude of their allies. The 



100 SUCCESSES OF THE cuts CARDS. 

Greeks assembled a large army, and, confident in their 
numbers, sent to the Normans to offer them eitlier battle 
or a safe retreat. " To battle !" exclaimed the Normans, 
while one of their knights struck down with a blow of his 
fist the horse of the Grecian messenger. The Greeks, 
notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, received a 
total defeat, and tiie Normans gained possession of a great 
part of their dominions in Apulia, a few strong places 
excepted. They now arrayed their forces under the 
command of twelve counts, the chief of whom took the 
title of Count of Apulia. 

The first who held this title of eminence, was a dis- 
tinguished warrior named William Braccio di Fer, which 
means Iron-arm, from his irresistible strength, which he 
displayed at the expense of both the Greeks and Sara- 
cens. But his renown was eclipsed by that of the cele- 
baied Robert Guiscard, a Norman, descended from a race 
of Vavasours, or petty nobles, who had originally their 
family seat at Hauteville in Normandy. Robert was the 
most distinguished among the family of Tancred de Haute- 
ville, although consisting of twelve sons, all of whom, as 
they became severally of age, forsook their father's cas- 
tle, and followed the steps of their elder brother, to seek 
glory or death in the wars of Italy. They were distin.- 
guished by their valour and skill in obscure warfare, until 
the convulsed state of the times permitted them to start 
forth as leaders and as heroes. Wherever any of these 
brethren appeared, it would seem that fortune attached 
herself to the standard under which they fought. The 
great odds of number^ never prevented their obtaining 
victory ; the utmost severity of suffering or distress never 
effected the slightest change in their unyielding perse- 
verance. The father of this heroic family raised him- 
self from the rank of count to that of duke, and, m fact, 
of sovereign prince of Apulia and Calabria. The valour 
of his brother, Roger, achieved the conquest of Sicily 
from the Saracens, and held the sovereignty WiJi the 
title of count. Robert Guiscard himself waged open 
war on A'exius Comnenus, the Grecian Emperor, and in 



SUCCESSES OF THE GUISCARD?. 101 

the celebrated combat of Durazzo, gained a bloody and 
well-disputed victory, which shook the very foundations 
of the imperial throne, although then occupied by a 
sovereign of peculiar sagacity an,d courage. (A. D. 
J 085.) But four years afterwards, Guiscard, who had 
achieved so many wonders, died in his seventieth year, 
while still waging war against Alexius, and endeavour- 
ing, by improving his old and devising new resources, 
to make up the loss he had sustained, rather by the 
inclemency of the elements than by the sword of tho 
enemy. 

The male line of this daring adventurer became ex- 
tinct, but that of Roger Count of Sicily suivived, to 
represent the courage, the enterprise, and the ambition 
of the House of Guiscard. The exploits of the Normans 
in Italy, and in the East, abound with many interesting 
and highly chivalrous stories, which would attract your 
attention, and repay me for the trouble of compiling 
'.hem, but their connexion with the History of France is 
not so near as to permit them to enter into the present 
collection. As brilliant, and a much more durable effect, 
of the Norman valour was produced by the conquest >f 
Endand. 



103 SAXON CONq,UEST OF ENGLAND. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Saxon Conquest of England — Saxon Heptarchy — 
Court of Edward the Confessor — Dislike betxveen 
the English and JVormans — Death of Edward, and 
Jlccession of Harold — Preparations of William of 
JVo7'7nnndy for invading England — Invasion and 
Defeat of Harold of JVorivay — Battle of Hastings — 
Effects of the A^orman Conquest — Forest Laws — 
Couvrefeu — The Language changed by the intci mix- 
ture of JVorman-French — Introduction of Chivalry — 
Connexion with Continental Politics, which was the 
consequence of England falling into the hands of the 
Duke of J\'ormandy. 

The Norman Conquest — a great event, which con 
tinues its effects even to our own day — was for many 
centuries the abupdant source of wars as inveterate and 
bloody as the world ever saw. Like other revolutions 
of that destructive period, it had its remote origin in the 
feeble and decayed state in which the Romans left tlie 
island of Britain, or at least its southern af.d more fertile 
moiety, when they withdrew their experienced legions 
from the defence of the colonists, and, having first de- 
prived them of arms, and allowed their military habits to 
fall into disuse, left them, unaided, to protect themselves 
against the unconquered barbarians of the northern parts 
of the island, then termed Scots and Picts. Finding 
themselves exposed to the attacks of these fierce people, 
It is well known that the dispirited Britons snnmioned to 
iheir assistance tlie Saxons, a people inhabiting the north 
of Germany, and the southern shores of tiie Baltic. A 
nation thus imploring the defence of stranger tribes, ex- 
posed themselves of course to then* rapacity. The 
Saxons repelled indeed the irruptions of tlie northern 
baroarians but summoninij more of their bretlucn to 



SAXON CONQUEST OF ENGLISH. " H)3 

share the conquest of a country which the natives cculd 
not defend, they gradually occupied the fertile lowlands 
of the island, wliicli became, 'rom them first distinguished 
by the name of England, (land of the Anglo-Saxons,"! 
and drove the natives, who continued their resistance, into 
the northern mountains of Westmoreland and Cumber- 
land, and the provinces now called Wales — in which last 
country the remains of the primitive Gael or Celtic inhab- 
itants of the island are still to be found. This Saxon 
conquest formed a nation not dissimilar in manners to thai 
of the Franks, as the victors in some degree incorporated 
with their own nation the conquered Britons and Roman 
colonists. 

The Anglo-Saxons, like the Franks, had no very dis- 
tinct notions of hereditary succession ; and, to add to this 
great inconvenience, the invaders had been drawn from 
separate tribes^ each of whom expected their portion of 
the spoil in settlements, and in the privilege of recog- 
nizing an independent king or chieftain of their own. 
Hence the impolitic division of England into seven petty 
kingdoms, called the Heptarchy, which existed, exclusive 
of the tract of country still possessed by the native 
British. A series of intrigues, and of bloody, though 
petty wars, was the natural consequence of the claims 
of the little tyrants of each state. During these con- 
tests, the country, as a whole, suffered much, though foj 
some time no one kinglet could obtain any decided ad- 
vantage. 

Such small kingdoms have, nevertheless, the same 
propensities to unite with each other, as may be observed 
<n drops of water which are running down the same plate 
of glass. By succession, by composition, by conquest, 
the petty states of the heptarchy were at length melted 
down into one monarchy, which suffered its full share in 
the distresses inflicted upon Europe by the invasion of 
the Normans. Indeed, at that time, the Danes, being 
the nation of Northmen who chiefly harassed the coasts 
oi* England, were able to establish a dynasty of kings 



H)4 CHARACTER OF THE NORMANS 

on the English throne, a disgrace to which France had 
never stoo}3ed. 

On the death of Hardicanute, however, the last Danish 
prince, the Saxons were again enabled to restore the 
crown of England to their own royal family, by the elec- 
tion of Edward, called the Confessor, to that dignity. It 
was chiefly in this prince's reign that the increasing inter- 
course between the kingdom of England and the Ductiy 
of Normandy, prepared both countries for the important 
events which afterwards took place. 

The Normans, it must be remembered, were a race 
possessed of as much civilization as the times admitted, who 
valued tliemselves, and were prized in foreign nations, 
both on account of the elevated and ardent chivalry which 
they displayed in battle, and the lofty, and somewhat 
fantastic manners, which were then accounted courtesy in 
civil life. In their architecture, their theory of feudal 
law, their habits of society, their rules of hunting, and 
their piactice of military discipline, they affected a differ- 
ence frgm, and a superiority over, the blunter manners 
of the unrefined Saxons, for whose institutions and habits 
the courtly and chivalrous Normans entertained a degree 
of contempt amounting to disgust. But England was a 
land in which estates were to be acquired, and the Nor- 
mans, who were always of an emigrating and adventurous 
disposition, came in numbers to the court of Edward the 
Confessor, where they were courteously received, and 
liberally provided for. The king was himself Norman 
by the mother's side, being descended from Emma, a 
daughter of Richard I, Duke of Normandy, grandson of 
Rollo, or Robert, who founded the pVincipality. Besides, 
in his youth, the Saxon king had found refuge at the 
court of Normandy, during the tumults which agitated 
England, and had become attached to the people and 
their nj^de of life, which had in it something more a^ree- 
nblc to a youthful prince, than the blunt, hardy, and 
almost rude character, of the ancient English. Edward, 
in consequence of this partiality, introduced into his couit 
'he manners, customs, and lan:rua";e of the Norinars 



NORMANS EXPELLED FROM ENGLAND. 10.1 

The latter was French, for the descendants of Rdio had 
long forgotten the Danish, or Norse hinguage, spoken by 
their fiithers. 

The Saxons of England saw, with great resentment, 
the preference given by the king to their Norman neigh- 
bours. They were jealous of tlie freedom of their own 
laws, unfettered by feudal dependence, wliich gave an 
assembly of their estates, called Wittenageraot, or the 
convention of Wise Men, a wholesome control over tlie 
will of the sovereign, and provided for the protection of 
the lives ?nd liberties of the subjects, affording the ground- 
work of that stubborn and steady independence of prin- 
ciple, which has distinguished the bulk of the English 
nation for so many ages. They laughed at and ridiculed 
the affected refinements of the Normans, and, confident 
in their own courage and their own weapons, were willing 
to bid defiance to those mail-clad strangers, armed as they 
were with bows and arrows, the artillery of the period, 
in which the Noi'mans were held to excel. These mis- 
siles could not be totally unknown in Britain, but the 
archers of Normandy were disciplined, and acted in battle 
as a separate body. These mutual subjects for scorn 
and jealousy, spread dislike and hatred between the Eng- 
lish and their Norman visiters. 

At the head of the English, or rather Saxon interest, 
were the powerful Godwin, Earl of Kent, and his sons. 
Under their guidance, the Norman aliens were expelled 
from England, and the foundation of a lasting animosity 
laid between them and the Saxons, or English. Edward, 
tlifi reigning monarch, retained, however, his partiality for 
his mother's countrymen. The address and flattery of 
the Normans pleased a monarch who was not a man of 
strong mind, and their habits of civil deportment and 
feudal observances were acceptable to a prince, who ob- 
iected to the rude remonstrances and homely manners 
of the English. Edward maintained an intimate corres- 
pondence with William Duke of Normandy, and appears 
10 have formed a plan of bequeathing to him his kingdom 
of England. This was, no doubt, a great infringemeni 
' 5* 



106 ACCESSION OF HAROLD. 

of tlie laws, which assigned the king only a life inlei-csi 
in his kingdom ; and besides, by such a bequest the 
reigning monarch did his utmost to disinherit the real 
heir of England, Edgar Atliehng, in favour of an ihe- 
gitimate Norman, wlio, though connected with the Con- 
fessor s Norman relations, (for Edward's mother Emma 
was aunt to Duke William's father,) yet had not a drop 
of English blood in his veins. But the youth Edgar, 
wlio had the lawful title of succession to the crown, was 
absent in Hungary ; and the conduct of Edward, if not 
blameless, was at least excusable in a well meaning, but 
weak monarcli. 

ITpon the death of Edward, Harold, one of the sons 
of Earl Godwin, conscious both of his own great power, 
extensive influence, and known character for sagacity and 
courage, resolved to disregard alike the claims of Edgar 
Atheling, the lawful successor to the crown, and that 
which was preferred by a more formidable competitor, 
William Duke of Normandy. (A. D. 1066.) It is true, 
that Harold, being driven ashore on the coast of Nor- 
mandy, had taken an oath to favour the pretensions of 
Duke William to the English throne, after the death of 
Edward the Confessor ; but he denied that such an oath 
was binding, having been, as he alleged, forcibly com- 
pelled to take it. He availed himself, therefore, of his 
extensive influence with the English nobles, obtained the 
office of king by a grant from the assembled nobility, as- 
sumed the crown, and was consecrated by the Archbishop 
of Canterbury. 

But the throne which Harold had thus taken possession 
of, was menaced from three |)ow-erful quarters. The first 
was his own brother Tosti ; the Second was Harold Har- 
drada, K ng of Norway, a veteran warrior, who threat- 
ened instant invasion ; the third was William, Duke of 
Normandy, who founded his claim on the alleged bequest 
of Edward the Confessor, and on the oath of Harold to 
support it. Of these dangers, the third is best deserving 
of consideration. 

William of Normandy, though an illegitimate son, had 



NORMAN INVASION OF ENGLAND. 107 

succeeded to the Dukedom of Normandy as the inlierit- 
ance of liis father, and had been engaged during his youth 
in fo many disputes and wars, botli uiili liis own insurgent 
nobility, and with liis hege lord, tlie King of France, that 
his understanding was matured and. his authority con- 
firmed, so as to give, him confidence to embark in the 
daring expedition which he meditated, being nothing less 
than the conquest of a kingdom, containing dominions far 
more extensive, and a population much more numerous^ 
than his own. He was encouraged in this daring attempt ■ 
by tile undaunted valour so peculiar to his Norman sub- 
jects, and which they had displayed in such desperate 
adventures as tliose of Robert Guiscard and his brethren. 
If, he might argue, the sons of a simple knight, who led 
a petty band of ten lances, had, by their indomitable 
valour, rendered their small resources available to gain 
great battles, and establish fair principalities, wiiat effects 
might not be expected from an army cotnposed entirely 
of Norman warriors, and headed by their duke himself? 
Still, however, tlie forces of Normandy bore a fearful 
disproportion to those of the kingdom which he purposed 
to invade ; and Duke William strove to balance the supe- 
riority by every means in his power. 

For this i^urpose, he availed himself of his relation to 
Baldwin, called the Pious, Count of Flanders, whose 
daughter he had married. Baldwin was Regent of France 
diu-ing the minority of Philip the First, and, by his 
license and management, the Duke of Normandy was 
permitted to publish throughout France pro|)Osals to all 
brave warriors, who wished to gain honour oi wealth, to 
join him in his present enterprise. A vast number of 
knights and warriors, from different parts of the kingdom, 
hastened to join an expedition of a character so peculiarly 
reductive to the imaginations of the age, and the army 
of Normandy, was augmented, in point of numbers, by 
the addition of a large pioportion of those in France who 
were ambitious of obtaining fame in chivalry. 

Count Baldwin has been in his capacity of Guardian 
U' France, censured for affording the facilities which ena- 



1.08 BATTLE OF STiMFORD. 

bled a vassal of that kingdom, already to<: })o\verful, ti) 
caise himself to a [)itch of equality with his liege lord, 
as was the final consequence of tins expediiion. Bui 
the issue of so dubious an attemi)t might liave fallen out 
otherwise, and then the power of Normandy, instead of 
being increased, must have been broken by the invasion 
of England. Besides, it must for ever remain a question, 
whether, in granting tliese means of augmenting the army 
of William, Baldwin did not avert the risk of a war with 
Normandy, at the expense of assisting him in a distant 
and hazardous enterprise, the brilliant success of which 
could not be foreseen. 

The army which the duke assembled for bis daring 
expedition, amounted to fifty thousand horse, and ten 
thousand infantry. These were all chosen men, and the 
disproportion between the cavalry and infantry showed 
William's superiority in the force which was then held 
the most effective part of an army. To transport this 
large body of men, William constructed, or assembled, a 
fleet of three thousand vessels ; and to sanctify his under- 
taking, he obtained the benediction of the Pope, who ap- 
pears to have had little to do with the quarrel. 

Wliile this cloud was gathering on the coast of Nor- 
mandy, the attention of Harold of England was with- 
drawn from its progress by a danger yet more imminent. 
His brother Tosti, after an attempt at insurrection which 
liad been easily subdued, had fled to Harold Hardrada., 
King of Norway. This gigantic champion and valiant 
warrior united a large army with the followers of the in- 
surgent Tosti, sailed up the Humber, gained several 
advantages, and obtained possession of York. The at- 
tention of Harold the Saxon was imperiously summoned 
to this new enemy, against whom he instantly marched. 
Wlien he arrived in face of the invaders, he endeavoured, 
by oflering terms to his brother Tosti, to induce him to 
withdraw from his foreign ally. " But if I accept these 
conditions," said Tosti, " what shall be the compensation 
to the King of Norway, my ally ?" — " Seven feet of 
English land," answered the envoy ; "or, as Hardrada 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS 109 

IS a giant, perhaps a little more." On these terms, the 
EiiLfhsh and Norwegians broke off their conference, and a 
dreadful battle, at Stamford, near York, was the conse- 
(juence. (A. D. 1066.) The armies fought with incredi- 
ble valour, and there was much slaughter on both sides ; 
but Harold of Norway lost his life and the battle, while 
Harold of England, though enfeebled by the loss of 
many of his best troops, remained victorious. But he 
was instantly called upon to meet more formidable adver- 
saries in William and his army, who had arrived at Pe- 
vensey. Unhappily for Harold, far too little respite was 
allowed him to recruit his forces after so bloody an action. 
Three days only intervened between the defeat of the 
Norwegian, and the arrival of William on the English coast. 

The Duke of Normandy was speedily apprized that 
Harold was approaching at the head of an army flushed 
with victory. William, who had no re-enforcements to 
expect, determined not to avoid a battle. Harold, though 
he might more prudently have delayed till he recruited his 
diminished army, determined to seek for an encounter 
without loss of time. Both princes met on the fatal and 
memorable field of Hastings. 

Taillifer, a minstrel of eminence at the court of the 
Duke of Normandy, began the fight. He sung the war- 
song of Roland, composed on the victories of Charle- 
magne. As he advanced, he played tricks with his 
sword, which he brandished in the air, tossing it up, and 
again catching it with his hand, to mark, doubtless, his 
calm coui'age and self-possession. In this manner, he 
rushed on the Saxon ranks, killed two men, and was him 
self slain by a third. The battle then joined with incred- 
ible fury. The Saxons, or English, were chiefly drawn 
up in one solid mass, impenetrable by cavalry. No 
effort of Duke William's brilliant chivalry, though led 
on by himself in person, had the least effect upon this 
unbroken phalanx. At length a military stratagem ac- 
complished what mere force failed in. A body of a thou- 
sand Norman horse charged the English with apparent 



110 FOREST LAWS. 

fur), but retreating in well-dissembled panic, induced 3 
considerable part of their enemies to quit their )anlcs in 
pursuit. Those who thus broke their array were cut off 
by the Norman main body, as, aware of the stratagem, 
they endeavoured to regain their ranks. But tlie encoun- 
ter continued obstinate. In this dreadful battle, wliich 
was to decide the face of England, the Normans derived 
great advantage fi'otn their skill in the long-bow. At 
length Duke William directed his archers, instead of 
shooting their arrows horizontally against the faces of the 
English, to discharge their volleys into the air, so that 
they might come down upon the heads of the Saxon pha 
lanx with accumulated weight and effect. This species 
of annoyance did much mischief among the more distant 
ranks, on whom they descended like hail. One shaft, 
more fortunate than the rest, decided the obstinate battle, 
by striking Harold in the face, and piercing through bis 
eye into the brain. 

The death of Harold terminated a conflict, one of the 
most obstinate, as it was the most important, in the annals 
of England. The immediate success of William's expe- 
dition was ensured by the death of the English monaich ; 
for, by submission or force, the Conqueror annexed to his 
dominions the whole kingdom of England ; and though 
vexed by repeated rebellions among his new subjects, 
and even among the Normans themselves, disappointed 
with the share of spoil assigned them, be held, neverthe- 
less, with a firm grasp, the advantages which he had gained 
by his wisdom and courage. 

It is impossible to return to the history of France, from 
U'hich this is a digression, without pausing to consider the 
effect of the Norman conquest, not only in its more im- 
mediate, but after consequences. Tlie immediate con- 
sequence was, that the conquered Saxons became, speak- 
ing generally, the serfs, or bondsmen, of the victorious 
Normans, and that the conqueror distributed his new ac- 
quisitions of territory among the valiant partners of his 
enterprise. In many casesj some colour of right was given 
to this partition, as where a Saxon maide.0, who h;id sue- 



ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Ill 

ceedeJ a father or brother slain at Hastings, or elsewhere 
in some large inheritance, was bestowed in marriage by 
the conqueror, on one of his fortunate and ftivoured com- 
nanions in arms. More frequently, the estates of Saxons 
of high birth and great property, were forfeited for alleged 
insurrection against their new masters.. 

Upon the whole, the system of feudal law was intro- 
duced into England by the conquest, and the Nonrian 
knights and nobles received grants of the richest n)anors 
and baronies of the crown, to be held of the king by 
military service. These they again granted in smaller 
portions, to be enjoyed by men chiefly of their own coun- 
try, who should depend on them, as they upon the mon- 
arch. Such part of the land as the proprietors thought 
proper to retain for their own use, was cultivated for their 
advantage by the Saxon bondsmen, the haughty Nornjan 
disdaining to employ himself in any occupation save that 
of battle, tournament, or hunting. 

On the last subject, they introduced into England the 
severe and unjust laws of Normandy and France, which, 
under the highest and most disproportioned penalties, re- 
served the pleasure of pursuing tlie chase to the great 
vassals alone. William the Conqueror himself led the 
way in his extravagant passion for such amusements ; 
and the ruthlessness with which he sacrificed to his love 
of silvan sport the comfort and happiness of his new 
people, is almost inconceivable. In the county of Hamp- 
shire alone, an immense woodland tract of sixty-three 
thousand acres still termed the New Forest, was reduced 
to a mere waste, all towns and dwellings of man, as well 
as the churches intended for the worship of God, being 
utterly destroyed, and the district reserved exclusively 
for the abode of wild animals, and the exercise of hunting. 

Other laws, peculiarly vexatious to the lower ord(.'rs of 
English, were introduced instead of the mild government 
exei'cised by the native Saxon monarchs. Tiie harassed 
natives were easily driven into rebellion, w^hich answered 
so far the purpose of the Conqueror, as it gave pretence 
for new confiscations, b.3 which he enriched his followers. 



112 IMPROVEMENTS BY THE CONQUEST^ 

At length, threatened insurrections among the English were 
so general, and so much suspected, that the memorable 
law of Curfew or Couvrefeu, was enacted, by which all 
the lower classes were compelled to extjnguisli their fires 
or lights at the sound of a bell, which rung towards bed 
time. Numerous JVorman garrisons, scattered over the 
country, at once secured to the victors undisturbed pos- 
session of the land, and enforced the subjection of the 
harassed inhabitants. 

In a word, the whole kingdom of England was divided 
between the Normans, who were the lords and gentry, 
and the Saxons, who, with a few exceptions, became the 
cultivators of the soil. These two races did not even 
enjoy the ordinary means of communicating together, for 
the Normans spoke French, as well as the king and cour- 
tiers : the courts of law used the same language, and the 
common people alone used or understood the Saxon, 
which they employed in their own affairs. This separa- 
tion of language lasted till about a hundred years after 
the Conquest, when the English language began to be 
used by all the inhabitants of the kingdom. The gen- 
tlemen were, in general, acquainted with French also, 
but every Englishm.an spoke the niixed language, which 
had been gradually formed between the Norman-French 
and the Anglo-Saxon. This is the language which has 
finally superseded the use of all others in England, the 
language of Newton and Bacon, the language of Milton 
and Shakspeare, in which wisdom and genius have 
achieved so much to instruct and delight mankind. 

The Norman Conquest had another beneficial conse- 
quence, though its effects operated slowly. We have 
alr'-ady said, that the conquerors, when compared with 
the vanquished, were a race of a civilized and refined 
chaiacter, who affected the highest tone of chivalry, 
mingled as it was with much that was gallant, certainly, 
and that aspired to be laudable. It is probable, that im- 
mediately after the battle of Hastings, this distinction in 
manners only operated to the disadvantage of the hum- 
ble Saxons, whose rusticity afforded their conquerors an 



ENGLISH WARS ON THE CONTINENT. 113 

additional reason for oppressing them, as beings of a lower 
grade, and beneath their regard. But in litne the con- 
• querors and the conquered began to mingle together and 
assimilate themselves to each other ; and there can be 
no doubt tliat tlie refinement of the chivalrous Normans 
extended its influence, in part at least, over the bhinter 
and ruder Saxons, and introduced among them the spirit 
of unblemished honour and uncontaminated faith, which 
was taught by the doctrines of chivalry, if not always 
regularly^ practised. On the other hand, the bkmt and 
resolute Anglo-Saxons preserved that sense of their rights, 
and jealousy of their independence, which has been so 
long the characteristic of the English people. 

It was, perhaps, less for the future advantage of Bri- 
tain, that in becoming part of the dominions of the Duke 
of Normandy, the country was necessarily involved in 
the vortex of continental politics and continental quarrels, 
with wliich her insular situation left her naturally uncon- 
nected. It is not indeed unlikely that England, when- 
ever she came to a feeling of her own strength, might 
have been induced, to take an interest in the affairs of her 
neighbours ; but it is not improbable that her eyes would 
have been first turned to make conquests within her own 
shores, in which case Scotland, in all human probability, 
must have been completely and permanently subdued, 
and the crown of all Britain, as well perhaps as that of 
Ireland, established on the brow of the English monarchs, 
ere they engaged in more distant, more doubtful, and less 
politic hostilities with France. But it is in vain to spec- 
ulate on what mit^ht have been. It is sufficiently evident, 
that the affairs of France must continue to interest the 
King of England, while he occupied the fair duchy of 
Normandy, with several feudal rights over Bretagne, 
which were granted to Rollo along with the dukedom 
Itself, as part of the dowery of the French princess 
Gisele. And if the domestic security of England was 
disturbed, and its internal security shaken, by her being 
engaged in wars with which she had no repl concern, it 

947 



{ 14 REBELLION OF ROBERT. 

was some compensation that several brilliant pages were 
added to her chronicles, recording victories, which, t^ ough 
fruitless, and gained by great sacrifices, contain noble 
proofs of English valour and magnanimity. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Kehellion of Robert against Jiis Father, William the 
Conqueror, instigated by Philip I. of France — Prof- 
ligacy of Philip — Wise Conduct of Louis — Attempt 
of Philip's Concubine to Poison Louis — Death of 
Philip — Origin of the Crusades — Council of Cler- 
mont — Army of Crusaders led by Peter the Hermit — 
its Disasters — Crusade fitted out by the Four Prin- 
cipal JVIonarchs of Europe — its Reception by ths 
Greek Emperor — Capture of JYice — Battle of Dor y- 
IcEum — Siege of Antioch — Siege and Capture of Je- 
rusalem — Subjugation of Palestine — Erection of the 
Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. 

Philip I. of France was not a little piqued and morti- 
fied to- find, that by this happy attempt against England, 
his vassal the Duke of Normandy had started up king of 
a realm as ample and fair as his own, which, though so 
recently acquired, and disquieted by insurrections, was 
upon the whole, ruled by tlie Conqueror with more abso- 
lute sway than France itself by the descendant of Capet.- 

Philip was determined to shake this new empire. He 
not only entered into a war with the King of England, 
but intrigued with his eldest son Robert, whom he encour- 
aged to rebel against his ilither, William the Conqueror. 
The pretext assigned for the French hostilities, and the 
unnatural conduct of the son, was, that when William 
undertook his English conquest, he engaged, in case of 
his being successful, that he would resign to his son his 
Norman dominions. It is probable, that, if such a proo- 
jse was made, it was given only to allay the fears of the 



DEATH OF WILLIAM THE C0N(^UEI10R 115 

French court tliat William, by succeeding in bis expedi- 
tion would become too powerful a vassal ; but the com- 
pact was agreed to without any serious inienticn of keep- 
ing it. At any rate, it had become impossible for the 
duke to yield up Normandy without incurring the risk of 
losing England also, since it was only in bis power to 
defeat the insurrections of the English by the aid of the 
soldiery which be drew from his native dominions. 

Under the pretence, nevertheless, that VV^illiam the 
(Jonqueror had failed in this agreement to sun-encier Nor- 
mandy, his son Robert, a rash young man, and of fiery 
passions, though in bis person brave and genei'ous, actu- 
ally rebelled against his fatlier, and held out against him 
the small fortified place of Gei'beroi, a station very con- 
venient for the annoyance of Normandy, and wliere 
Philip placed his young ally for that very purpose. Wil- 
liam of England, incensed at the rebellious conduct of his 
son, hastened to lay siege to the place of his retreat. The 
garrison sallied, headed by Prince Robert in person. 
This leader, one of the bravest men of bis time, singled 
out for his antagonist a knight who appeared in front of 
the besiegers, in armour, and having his face covered by 
the visor of his helmet. The onset of the young and 
fiery prince bore down his antagonist, horse and man ; 
and Robert, placing,,his lance to the throat of tlie dis- 
mounted cavalier, would have taken his life, had he not 
recognized by the accents in which the answer was return- 
ed, that he was in the act of slaying bis own father. 
Shocked at this discovery, he flung himself from his 
horse, and, assisting his father to arise, held the stirrup to 
him till he mounted it in his stead. 

But notwithstanding an incident so touching at once 
and terrible, the reconciliation between the (ather and son 
was not perfected. Robert still expected that his father 
would resign to him some part of the Norman territories, 
in fulfilment of the promise said to have been made pre- 
vious to his unde-rtaking the invasion of England : but he 
continued to expect in vain. The Conqueror answered 
the request in homely but intelligible phrase, that be was 



116 PR0FLI3ACY OF PHILIP I. 

not willing to tlirow off his clothes before he went «o bed 
or part with his dominions before his death. ,An open 
war which ensued with France cost William his life. He 
caught an inflammatory complaint, by directing in person 
the conflagration of the town of Mantes, and the destruc- 
tion of the country around. He did all in his power to 
punis-h his son Robert for his undutiful conduct, by be- 
queatliing the crown of England to his second son W-I- 
liam, called Rufus, or the Red. But although incensed 
against his eldest son, William the Conqueror left him 
the duchy of Normandy, chiefly, it is supposed, because 
he doubted whether the inhabitants would submit to any 
other prince than Robert, whom tiiey loved for his libe- 
rality, good nature, and romantic courage. 

While these changes took place in the family and do- 
minions of bis formidable vassal and rival, Philip I. of 
France was engaged in petty wars, by means of which, 
while affecting to mediate between his dissatisfied peers, 
he contrived to weaken both the contending parties, and 
to strengthen the crown at their expense. The morals 
of this prince were not much more strict than his politi- 
cal conscience. He at length gave a shameful and pub- 
lic instance of profligacy, by seizing upon the wife of 
Falk, Count of Anjou, called Rechigne, or the Morose. 
To enjoy her society, Philip parted with his own wife, 
who died of ill treatment, and during the latter years of 
his life, lived publicly with the beautiful Countess Ber- 
ti-ade, for such was her name. The court of Rome in- 
terfered in vain, and neither the admonitions of Pope or 
Council, though promulgated under threat of excommu- 
nication, which was at length actually pronounced, could 
deter tlte King of France from prosecuting this amour. 
By such conduct, the authority of Pliilip became as much 
degraded as his personal character. He was neglerted 
and despised even by his immediate vassals ; and the 
confusion which ensued was so great as to throw all France 
into aisorder. 

At length, the king saw fit in some degree to appease 
these disturbances, by associating, in the office and autho* 



ATTEMPT TO POISON LOU'S. H'. 

rity of Monarch of France, Louis, the ren/aining son 
whom he had hy liis lawful queen, by Whose activity and 
judicious exeitions, tranquillity was in some measure re- 
stored to the distracted kingdom. This active prince 
might be said to do all that his father had neglected. He 
kept always around him a body of determined men, with 
whom lie marched with rapidity against the vassals of the 
crown, who were perpetually in insurrection, and thus 
gradually acquired general respect and popularity. 

Bertrade, in the meanwhile, was the only person to 
whom the young prince's conduct was unacceptable. 
She exerted her unbounded influence over her royal lover 
to the prejudice of his son, on whose exertions, rathei 
than his own, the safe government of the kingdom de- 
pended. When Louis, conscious of his father's preju- 
dice against him, withdrew for a while to visit the court 
of England, Philip was induced to write a letter to the 
king of that country, instigating him to murder or im- 
prison the young prince. The advice was rejected with 
disdain by the King of England, who dismissed his guest 
with safety and honour. 

The dangers of Louis were increased on his return to 
France, for poison was administered to him by his father's 
concubine, which had so much effect on his constitution, 
that though he recovered his health in other respects, 
his complexion remained ever -afterwards a deadly pale. 
Louis upon receiving this new injury, was wellnigh pro- 
voked to break entirely with his father ; and it is proba- 
ble that the cause of the son would have been adopted by 
the kingdom in general, had not Philip become aware of 
iiis danger. Overcome by his authority, or terrified for 
the consequences of Louis's resentment, Bectrade made 
the most humble submissions to that Prince succeeded 
in a reconciliation, and entertained, or affected, during her 
future life, the utmost deference, and even affectinp for 
Louis, to the extent of confiding to him the safety and 
support of two children whom she had borne to his father, 
King Philip. 

The troubles of France were in some degree allayed 



118 ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES. 

by the agreement between the father and son ; and the 
latter, after this period, took chiefly on himself the active 
administration of the government, while the father con- 
tinued to indulge in the pleasure of luxury and retirement 
witli Bertrade, on whom he doted. Latterly, indeed, he 
seems to have reconciled the church to his connexion 
with her, since she receives, in the French annals, the 
title of queen, and her children are, at the same time, 
spoken of as legitimate. The acquiescence of the Pope 
in this promotion of the divorced Countess of Anjou into 
a legitimate Queen of France, was but imperfectly express- 
ed ; and was purchased, moreover, by such humble sub- 
mission to the papal see, as degraded the king- in the 
eyes of his own subjects. (A. D 1108.) Philip died 
at the age of sixty, leaving his son Louis, with diminished 
resom-ces, to strugtrle with all the evils which his father's 
weak government, and the sacrifice of his royal authority 
to his selfish love of pleasure, had brought upon his 
country. 

In this age of wonderful events, not only did such rev- 
olutions as those produced by the success of Guiscard 
and his brothers, as before mentioned, and the conquest 
of England by William of Normandy, astonish the world, 
but the attention of all men was attracted by the Cru- 
sades, a species of war bearing, as was pretended, a reli- 
gious character, and calling upon the Christian princes, 
as by a command from Heaven, to give up all private 
feuds and quarrels among themselves, and move in a 
body to overwhelm the Asiatics. The origin of these 
extraordinary wars arose, as great events ofteri do, from 
the efforts of a single individual, which happened in a 
reniarkable degree to concur with the peculiar opinions 
and manners of the age. 

I have told you that the devotional journeys called 
pilgrimages, to the tombs of the religious persons men- 
tioned in Scripture, or the places where they had wrought 
iheir miracles, were accounted in those times merito- 
rious displays of piety, the performance of which, by 
the tenets o<' the Catholic Church, was held ihe surest 



PILGRIMAGES TO THE HOLY 1 AND. 119 

and most acceptable mode of averting the wrath of Hea- 
ven for past transgressions, or exhibiting gratitude fot 
mercies received. Men who were in difficulties or iu 
dangers, often made a vow that in the event of their be- 
ing extricated, they would make a journey to some sanc- 
tified shrine in Italy or in Palestine, and there testify their 
sense of the protection of Heaven by alms, prayers, and 
gifts to the church. The Holy Sepulchre itself, of which 
the site was handed down by tradition, was naturally a 
principal object of these religious voyages, as best entitled 
to the respect and adoration of mankind. While Pales- 
tine, or the Holy Land, remained a part of the Grecian 
empu'e, the approach of the European pilgrims to the 
holy places which they desn-ed to visit, was naturally fa- 
cilitated by every means in the power of the Christian 
governors of the provinces \vhere they lay, and of the 
yiriests to whose keeping the places of sanctity were com- 
mitted. Their churches were enriched by the gifts which 
failed not to express the devotion of the pilgrims, and the 
vanity of the priests was flattered by the resort of so many 
persons of consequence from the most distant parts of 
Christendom, to worship at their peculiar shrines. 

Even when, in the course of the tenth century, the 
Holy Land fell under the power of the Saracens, that 
people, infidels as they were, felt their own interest in 
permitting, under payment of a certain capitation tax, 
the concourse of European pilgrims to Jerusalem, and 
other places which they accounted sacred. Stimulated by 
love of wealth, the Mahometan possessors of Palestine 
made the access tolerably easy to the devout men who 
desired to travel thither, so long as the pilgrims were not 
unwilllag to pay the tolls with which it was guarded. In 
their intercourse with Christian princes of eminence, the 
Califs, or successors of Mahomet, derived a certain con- 
sequence from being masters of Jerusalem ; and Haroun 
Alraschid, one of the most important of those princes, 
found no more acceptable compliment to conciliate C'har- 
lemagne, with whom he maintained a friendly intercourse, 
than to send to the Frank Emperor the keys of the Ho!^ 



1'20 PETER THE HERMIT. 

Sepulchre. But when the power of the Saracens was iu 
a great measure divided or destroyed, and the Turks, also 
followers of JVJahomet, but a far more rude and fanatical 
race, became masters of Jerusalem, the treatment of tiie 
Clirislians, whetlier natives of Palestine, or pilgrims who 
came to worship there, was in every respect different. 
The Saracens, a civilized and refined people compared 
with the Turks, had governed the country under fixed 
rules of tribute, and preferred the moderate, but secure 
]n-ofit, derived from tlie taxes imposed on the pilgrims, to 
that which might be attained by a system of robbery, 
plunder, and ill usage, by which the devotees were likely 
to be at length compelled to desist from their religious 
deities. But the Turks, a fiercer, more bigoted, and more 
short-sighted race, preferred the pleasure of insulting and 
maltreating Christians whoni they contemned and haled, 
and not only harassed them by the most exorbitant ex- 
actions, which when paid, did not secure freedom to the 
oppressed Frank to discharge his religious duty, but often 
added personal ill usage to the demand of extravagant 
tribute. In short, with or without the authority of their 
superiors, every paltry Turkish officer robbed, imprisoned, 
and slew the Christians at his pleasure ; and an act of 
pilgrimage, in itself perilous and expensive, was rendered 
frequently an introduction to martyrdom. The clergy of 
the Christians were insulted, stript, and fJung. into dun- 
geons ; nor was any circumstance omitted by the savage 
masters of the Holy Sepulchre, which cpuld show the 
pilgrims at how great hazard they must in future expect 
permission to pay their homage there. 

These evils had been sufficiently felt by all who had 
visited the East, but at length they made so stuong an 
impression on the spirit of one single man, that, like fire 
alighting among materials highly combustible, the flame 
spread throughout all Europe. The p«;rson who effected 
50 strong a sensation by so slight means, was Peter, 
nailed the Hermit. He was, we are informed, of a slight 
jnd indifferent figure, which sometimes exposed him tc 
Vmb negl cted ; but he was a powerful orator. He had 



ARMY OF CRUSADERS. 121 

nimself been a pilgrim in Palestine, and possessed the 
inpressive requisite that lie could bear testin)ony as an 
eye witness to the atrocities of the Turks, and the suf- 
ferings of the Christians. He repaired from court to 
court, from caslle to castle, from city to city, setting forth 
at each the shame done to Christendom, in leaving the 
holiest places connected with her religion in possession of 
a heathen and barbarous foe. He appealed to the relig- 
ion of one sovereign, to the fears of another, to the spirit' 
of chivalry professed by them all. Urban U.,then Pope, 
saw the importance of uniting the European nations, 
soldiers by habit and inclination, in a task so honourable to 
religion, and so likely to give importance to the Roman 
See. At the council of Clermont, ambassadors from the 
Grecian emperor were introduced to the assembly, who 
with humble deference, stated to the prelates and the lay 
chivalry of Europe the dangers to their Christian sover- 
eign, arising from the increasing strength of the Moslem 
empire, by which he was surrounded, and forgetting the 
wordy and assuming language which they vverfe accus- 
tomed to use, supplicated, with humiliating earnestness, 
the advantage of some assistance from Europe. The 
pontiff himself set forth the advantage, or rather necessity 
of laying all meaner or more worldly tasks aside, until 
the holy sepulchre should be freed from the heathen 
usurpers, who were its tyrants. To all, however crimi- 
nal, who should lend aid to this holy warfare, Urban 
promised a full remission of their sins here, and an indu- 
bitable portion of the joys of heaven hereafter. He 
then appealed to the temporal princes, with the enthusi- 
astic quotation of such texts of Scripture as were most 
likely to inflame their natural valour. " Gird on your 
swords," he said, " ye men of valour ; it is our part to 
pray, it is yours to fight. It is ours, with IMoses, to hold 
up our hands unremittingly to God, it is yours to stretch 
out the sword against the children of Amalek. — So be 
it-." The assembly answered, as to a summons blown by 
an archangel, — " It is the will of God — it is the will of 
6 VOL. I 4th Ser. 



122 MSORDERLY MARCHES OF THE CRUSADERS. 

God !" Thousands devoted themselves to the service of 
God, as they imagined, and to the recovery of Palestine_ 
with its shrines, from the hands of the Turks.' Each 
devot<?d himself to the prosecution of this holy under- 
taking, by cutting the form of a cross upon the shoulder 
of his cloak, being of a different colour from that of the 
garment itself, which was the especial form by which 
tiiese soldiers of Heaven announced their being enlisted 
in the Holy War. The undertaking was thence called a 
crusade, and those who joined its ranks were termed 
crusaders. The eagerness with which all men assumed 
this holy symbol was such, that some of the princes cut 
their robes to pieces, to furnish crosses for the multitudes 
around. 

The extraordinary proceedings at the council of Cler- 
mont were circulated with such amazing celerity, as made 
those be believed who affirmed that the report of this 
general movement was heard and known among distant 
nations oven on the very evening of the day of council. 
B t, without listening to what is incredible, it is certain 
the news of the crusade was every where spread through 
the Christian world with unexampled speed, and every 
where received with the utmost interest and applause. 
The number who assumed the Cross, or, in other words, 
pledged themselves to the Holy War, amounted probably 
to half a million of individuals at least. A very great 
proportion of this multitude were ignorant men, unac- 
customed to warfare, and unacquainted with the slightest 
precautions either in the field of battle, or on the far 
more ('omplicated subjects of marches and halts which 
were to be agreed on, and provisions, which were to be 
jTot in readiness. We may form some idea of the low 
rank fron) which these men were gathered, when we see, 
that although the strength of every arm}'- at the time con- 
sisted in cavalry, this miscellaneous rout, though com- 
posed of many thousand infantry, contained only eight 
horsemen. It is no wonder, says an historian, that a bird 
navmg wings so short, with a train of such disproportioned 
lenfrth, should not take a distant flight. The enthusiasm 



DISASTERS OF THE HERMIt's ARMY. 123 

of these i^^niorant and rash plebians, who formed a mob 
rather th;in a regular army, and observed no rule of war- 
fare, was so great, tliat they accounted the slightest jire- 
caution not ouly-unnecessary, but even an actual insult to 
Heaven, as inferring a doubt that Providence would pro- 
vide and protect the soldiers who had voluntarily enlisted 
themselves in this holy cause, 

Tliis tumultuary rabble, accordingly, did not wait for 
the great princes and leaders who had engaged in the 
same expedition, but resolved to set out on tiie journey by 
themselves. To ensure divine protection, they placed 
Peter the Hermit himself at their head. But neither his 
guidance, nor the military skill of his lieutenant, a valiant 
but needy knight, called Walter the Pennyless, owing to 
his ordinary state of poverty, were adequate to the man- 
agement of a numerous and disorderly host, who rushed, 
so wretchedly provided, on a march of many thousand 
miles. These leading squadrons were followed by im- 
mense bands, composed of similar materials, as giddy in 
their expectations, as wild in their sentiments, and as ir- 
regular in their discipline, as the host of the Hermit. 
Their leaders were, a barbarous and ignorant man called 
Gotieschalk, a German monk, and Enimicho, a tyranni- 
cal Rhine-Graf, or count, who. had demesnes on the 
Lower Rhine. Their followers were chiefly collected in 
the same countries, which have been found in latter times 
peculiarly accessible to enthusiasm. Some of them form- 
ed the unhappy idea, that, in order to expect success 
over the heathen in Palestine, it might be a good omen 
to begin with the destruction of the descendants of the 
Jews, the ancient inhabitants of the Holy Land. They 
murdered many of these unhappy people, who were the 
merchants and fiictors, by whom, in these wild times, the 
necessary commerce between- distant countries was con- 
ducted. Their wealth invited the murders and spoliation, 
which their unbelief rendered, in the eyes of the crusa- 
ders, not only venial, but meritorious. 

When this tumidtuous army had traversed German)-, 
divided as it were into separate billows of the sam^ 



124 CRUSABE FITTED OUT BT 

advancing ocean, and committing in their progress un- 
heard-of disorders, they at length reached Hungary, then 
inhabited by the remains of the Huns and Bulgarians. 
These fierce people, though professing the Christian faith, 
finding that the military pilgrims spoiled their villages, 
and seized their provisions, took arms against them with- 
out liesitation, and availing tliemselves of the swamps 
and difficult passes of their country, destroyed so many 
of the crusaders, that only about one-third of the original 
host of the Hermit Peter escaped into the Greek territo- 
ries. Here the Emperor Alexius, though somewhat sur- 
prised, doubtless, at the miserable appearance of this 
vanguard of his Western auxiliaries, relieved their wants, 
and endeavoured to prevail on them to wait for reinforce- 
ments from Europe. But when they had once attained 
the eastern side of the Bosphorus, to which the policy 
of Alexius had hastily transported them, the enthusiasm 
of this tumultuous host again induced them to rush on 
their own destruction. 

They entered Asia Minor, and Soliman, the sultan of 
Antioch, decoyed these ignorant warriors into the plains 
of Nice, where they fell beneath the arrows of the light 
armed Turks, and by diseases of the climate. In these 
tumultuary proceedings,. three hundred thousand cham- 
pions of the Cross lost their lives, before the kings and 
nobles of Europe, who had taken the same vows with 
these over-hasty devotees, had been able to accomplish 
their preliminary preparations. 

We are to suppose, naturally, that men of high rank, 
versed at least in the art of war, and in some degree ac- 
quainted with politics as they then existed, if foolish 
"nougli to be forced into such an undertaking, which in- 
deed the universal enthusiasm rendered it difficult for 
them to avoid, would not yet neglect the usual precau- 
tions to ensure success, nor expect that provisions, the 
means of transportation, or other absolute necessaiies for 
the success of their expedition, would be furnished by a 
succession of miracles. 

Accordingly, when the storm of destruction had com- 



THE EUROPEAN MONARCHS. 125 

menced among those disorderly bands wliich marched 
under Peter the Hermit, Gotteschalk, Einmicho, and 
other incapable persons, there remained beliind a well- 
disciplined host, selected out of the four principal nations 
of Europe, whose leaders may be briefly mentioned. 

I. Tlie French cliivalry took the Cross with all the 
eagerness of their national character, and are supposed 
to have sent as many adventurers as all Europe besides. 
Philip, ilieir king, immersed in pleasures, and unable to 
separate himself from his favourite Bertrade, evaded 
taking the engagement ; but his best soldiers followed 
the steps of Hugo, called tlie Great, brother to Philip, 
and of Godfrey of Boulogne, called Duke of Brabant, 
who for his wisdom and bravery was afterwards chosen 
chief of the crusade. This last distinguished leader 
was accompanied by his brothers Baldwin and Eustace. 
Stephen, F^arl of Blois, father to that Stephen who was 
afterwards King of England, Raymond, Earl of Toulouse, 
Robert, Earl of Flanders, Hugh, Earl of Saint Paul, and 
Baldwin de Biu'gli, princes of high rank, and warriors of 
great fame, engaged in this expedition with bands of fol- 
lowers becoming their birth and reputation. 

H. Italy sent some distinguished soldiers ; among 
others Bohemund, prince of Tarentum, with his nephew 
Tancred, both worthy descendants of the Norman stock 
of Guiscard, put to sea at the head of twelve thousand 
men. The flower of the soldiers of the northern prov- 
inces of Italy also took the Cross. 

III. England sent many barons, who arrayed them- 
selves under Robert, called Curt-hose, or Short-iiose, the 
eldest son of William the Conqueror, whom he had sue-" 
ceeded as the Duke of Normandy. He also led a great 
part of the gallant Norman chivalry, to win fame, or meet 
death, in the eastern deserts. Soldiers from Scotland, 
Ireland, and Wales, are supposed to have joined the Eng- 
lis'i expedition, but in small numbers. 

IV. Of Germany we have already spoken, m giving 
an account of the bands of common men whom she sent 



L26 ALEXIUS COMNENUS. 

to the war. Her noblemen did not take arms in the same 
propDrtion, and as the crusaders inarched througli that 
country, it is said they incurred the scorn and ridicule of 
the more sohd part of" the nation, who termed them fools 
for going on so idle an expedition. We will presently 
see that the Germans themselves afterwards caught the 
infection. 

Such was the composition of the first crusade, a for- 
midable armament, the numbers of which are represented 
as almost incalculable. Its leaders adopted separate roads, 
for the more easy collecting of forage and provisions, and 
the respective divisions performed their march with differ- 
ent degrees of security or danger, corresponding to the 
sagacity or rashness of their generals. Hugo, brother to 
the King of France, was defeated and made prisoner on 
the road by the Bulgarians, and sent captive to Constan- 
tinople. The other divisions of the crusading army ar- 
rived safe under the walls of that city. 

It was the Greek Emperor's turn to be astonished at 
the numbers and extent of a host assembled from all na- 
tions, and pouring with frantic eagerness towards the land 
of Palestine; so that, as Anna Comnena happily expresses 
it, all Europe seemed loosened from its foundations, and 
in the act of precipitating itself upon Asia. 

Alexius, then the Emperor of Greece, and already de- 
scribed as a sagacious prince, had expected that the aux- 
iliary forces would extend to no more than a modei-ate 
body of men-at-arms, his confidence in whose valour 
might niake amends for the smallness of their numbers, 
and who for the same reason could not propose to them- 
selves the part of masters instead of allies, or dictate 
laws to the sovereign whom they had come to assist. 
Instead of such a moderate reinforcement, tlie subtle and 
suspicions Emperor of the East now saw himself bo^^irt 
by armed legions from every corner of Europe, speaking 
unknown languages, sheathed in complete arn^.om",— iron 
men, in short, compared to his effeminate Grecians, owning 
no common bond or tie, save that of their insane oath, 
each knidit amidst their numbers holding the most un- 



OAIH EXACTED BY THE EMPEROR. 12"/ 

daunted confidence in his own courage, and the uimost 
contempt for all opposition which could he offered to his 
most unreasonable wishes. 

The reflections and apprehensions of Alexius were 
natural enough ; but a generous mind would have sub- 
dued them, and rather trusted to the honour of the prin- 
cipal crusaders, than have undermined their strength by 
indirect practices, and offended their pride by showing a 
jealousy of their good faith, and at the same time a fear 
for their numbers and force. He at first altogether refused 
to let so great a body of armed men pass into his Asiatic 
dominions, even to attack his enemies the Tui'ks. Nor 
did he at length grant the crusaders a free passage over 
the Bosphorus, which divides Europe from Asia, until 
they woL>ld consent to take an oath of fealty to him. 
Godfrey of Boulogne, and the other leaders of the cru- 
sade, consented at length to this unpleasant and jealous 
preliminary, reconciling themselves to a species of degra- 
dation, rather than multiply the difSculties of tlieir situa- 
tion, or make an attack upon a Christian emperor the first 
warlike action of the crusade. 

It was, however, with infinite difficulty that the numerous 
and haughty chiefs were induced to take the oath of 
fealty. Robert of Flanders positively refused to undergo 
the ceremonial, and could by no means be brought to 
submit. Many of the cliiefs ol the crusaders were only 
induced to take the vow to the emperor by the large 
gifts which he dealt among them, thus purchasing an ap- 
parent submission, to save appearances, and disguise the 
real debility of the empire. 

Nay, the manner in which the ceremonial was per- 
formed, showed the contempt which the crusaders enter- 
tained for the whole pageant. A French count, called 
Robert of Paris, appeared before the emperor to take the 
oath, with the others of his degree. He had no sooner 
performed the ceremony than he sat down on the same 
throne where the emperor reposed in state, exclaiming, 
— " What churl is this who sits, when so many noble 
knights are standing in his presence ?" It may be be- 



128 CAPTURE OF NICE. 

lieved Uiat no officer of the emperor dared interfere, but 
Bald\^in, brother of Godfrey of Boulogne, took the count 
by the hand, and reproaching him for liis rudeness,' obhged 
him to rise from the place he had taken. The emperor, 
preserving liis composure, asked the name and quality of 
the warrior who had taken so great a liberty. " 1 can 
but tell you this," answered the Frank, " tliat in my 
country there is an ancient church, to which those desirous 
of proving their valour repair, fully armed for battle, and, 
having gone through their devotions, remain there, to 
abide the attack of any adventurous knight that may- 
appear to encounter them. At that church, 'where three 
ways meet, have I myself abode for a long space. But 
the man lives not in France who dared answer my chal- 
lenge." The emperor confined his answer to the prudent 
observation, that if the count desired combat, he came to 
the place where he was sure to get enough of it, and 
proceeded to instruct the knight, who probably cared but 
little for his advice, in the particular warfare of the Turks. 
This story is told by Anna Comnena, daughter of Alexius, 
who seems to have suffered severely when she saw the 
august imperial dignity of her father so rudely infringed 
upon. 

After much time wasted, and many promises made and 
broken on the part of the emperor, respecting supplies 
of provisions, wines, and other necessaries for the army, 
the first crusade, transported by the Greek shipping to 
the shores of Asia, began seriously to enter upon tbeir 
holy warfare. Nice, which was well garrisoned by the 
Turks, was taken after a siege, and surrendered to the 
emperor Alexius, to whom it was a valuable acquisition, 
Sbliraan, Sultan of the Turks, more offended than dis- 
mayed by the loss he had sustained, assembled a very 
numerous army, amounting to from 150,000 to 200,000 
horsemen. These hung round the vanguard of the Chris- 
tian host, and exhausted them by constant, but desultory 
attacks. The scorching sun greatly annoyed the northern 
people, whose complete coats of mail rendered the heat 
more intolerable The unusual clans: and barbarous 



CAPTURE OF ANTIOCH. 129 

sounds of the Turkish mi sical instruments disturbed the 
liorses of the Christians ; and in the first general battle 
between the crusaders and the infidels, the former ran a 
great risk of defeat. The desperate exertions of the 
leaders, at length brought the infidels from desultory 
skirmishes to close action, in which armour of proof, with 
superior size and strength of body, gave advantage to the 
Europeans. Bohemund, Count Hugo of France, and 
Robert of Normandy, did wonderful feats with their own 
hands. The latter slew three infidels of distinction, in 
the face of both armies. The Sultan Soliman fled from 
the battle, which was fought at Dorylaium, in Phrygia. 
The restoration of his territory, called Roum, to the Em- 
peror Alexius, as it formed a frontier country of import- 
ance, was the means of preserving the Greek empire for 
perhaps a hundred years longer than it was otherwise 
likely to have subsisted. But Alexius did not make a 
politic use of his advantages. Instead of assisting the. 
Christians with good faith and sincerity, he took a more 
indirect course ; he tried to pursue his own interest by 
holding the balance betwixt the crusaders and their ene- 
mies the Turks, in the vain hope that he could make 
success turn to the one scale or the other, at his pleasure. 

The siege of the celebrated city of Antioch, accom- 
panied with dearth of provisions, want of water, scorch- 
ing heat, and contagious diseases, tried the patience of 
the military pdgrims, and overcame that of many. But 
the crusaders were particularly scandalized at the dele- 
tion of Peter the Hermit, who fled from the camp rather 
than share the severities to which he had been the means 
of millions exposing themselves. The fugitive was 
brought back by force, the rather that the absence of this 
famous preacher and prophet was deemed an evil omen. 
Antioch was at lengtli betrayed into the hands of the 
crusadeis by a Christian witliin the city; but, enraged 
?t the hardships they had sustained, and thirsting for 
blood, the besiegers spared, in their rage, neither Chris- 
tian nor pagan. 

A very large host, chiefly of Persians, under an Emir 
948 



i30 EMBA&ST FROM THE SARACENS. 

cilled Kerboga, in vain advanced to re-take the place, 
and avenge the slaughtered Moslemah. Their blockade, _ 
indeed, reduced the late besiegers to the state of TDeing 
themselves besieged. Disease followed faniinej men and 
horses died in multitudes. A well-imagined and happily- 
timed discovery of a supposed relic of great sanctit}', 
restored the enthusiasm which had sunk under bad for- 
tune and sufferings. The gates of Antioch were thrown 
open, the crusaders rushed out in full confidence of vic- 
tory ; and, being seconded by a fancied apparition of 
Saint George, Saint Theodore, and Saint Maurice, they 
totally dispersed the army of the besieging general, which 
}s described as almost innumerable. The stron"- and 

O 

wealthy city of Antioch was assigned as the seat of a 
principality, to be adjudged to Bohemund, for Alexius 
declined to accept what he was conscious he had no force 
to preserve. The route to Palestine now lay open to the 
crusaders — that country for which they had abandoned 
all their other prospects in life. 

Besides the necessity of collecting reinforcements, and 
the difficulty of coming to a determined conclusion, in 
cases where so many opinions were to be consulted, tiie 
city of Jerusalem, the possession of which was the prin- 
cipal object of the crusade, had of late changed masters, 
and returned from the possession of the Turks to that of 
the Saracens of Egypt, who were commanded by the 
Fatimite Califs. The Saracens, it must be remembered, 
had always afforded protection to the western pilgrims 
during the period when they held possession of the Holy 
City. It was, therefore, with some reason that they en- 
deavoured to persuade the crusaders to put an end to the 
war, as being now without a motive. The Egyptian 
ambassadors stated to the assembled chiefs, that Jerusa- 
lem which the Turks had made the scene of their op- 
pressions, was now restored to its lawful possessors, the 
Saracens, who had always given, and would engage 
always to give, hospitable reception, and fiee access to 
the objects of their devotion, to all peaceful pilgrims who 
should desire o approach th^m in modevate nunibers, auJ 



CAPTURfi OF JERUSALEM. 131 

williout arniJ. Tlie calif also offered great and splendid 
gifts to the chiefs ol the crusade, to induce them to make 
peace. The Euroi)ean leaders returned for answer, that 
their vows engaged them to rescue the Holy Land, and 
its capital, the city of Jerusalem, from infidels, of what- 
ever denomination, whom they should find in possession 
ot it ; that they were determined to recover the city ac- 
cordingly, and would admit no treaty, whether with Turk 
or Saracen, or other Mahometan whatsoever, which had 
not the absolute surrender of Jerusalem for its basis. 

At length the remains of this mighty crusade advanced 
on Palestine, and besieged the holy city of Jerusalem, so 
long the object of their hopes, vows, and wishes. The 
place was naturally strong, and was defended by thick 
walls and bulwarks, as well as by rocks and eminences. 
The crusaders remaining fit for service, out of a host which 
numbered its warriors by hundreds of thousands, did 
not amount to forty thousand men. Aladin, lieutenant 
of the Egyptian calif, commanded nearly an equal number 
of defenders. The Christians had, therefore, a difficult 
task before them, especially as they were in want of water, 
tents, and military engines. They at first attempted to 
take the city by main force, and make a general assault 
on the walls within five days after they sat down before 
them ; but being unprepared for such service, thev were 
beaten off with loss and dishonour. The siege was, how- 
ever, pressed with vigour ; the chiefs endured their losses 
with firmness, and their experience discovered supplies 
for their wants. Two wooden turrets, constructed upon 
wheels, were formed by some Genoese workmen, to be 
advanced to the wall, for the purpose of commanding the 
defences. The first, under command of Raymond Count 
of Toulouse, was set on fire, and consumed by the be- 
sieged. The second of these engines, under the imme- 
diate superintendence of Godfrey of Boulogne, was, with 
better fortune, rolled up to the walls, wdiere, as it over- 
looked the parapet, the arrows from the archers wnhin it, 
cleared the rampart of the defenders. A drawbi'idge 
then dropt between the tower and the wall — the attackinj, 



132 KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM. 

party poured over it, and the besiegers obtained possession 
of tlie city. An indiscriminate massacre commenced, in 
vvhicli many thousand AJahometans were slain,' although 
resistance was entirely at an end. When this pitiless 
slaughter (which lasted three days) was over, the victors, 
with a devotion strangely contrasted witli their late cruel- 
ly, joined in a solemn pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, 
where loud hymns of praise, and devout tears of peni- 
tence, were enthusiastically poured forth as an accept- 
able offering to Heaven, by the very men whose hands 
were red with the blood spilt in an unprovoked massacre. 

The country of Palestine followed the fate of Jerusalem, 
and the Christian leaders resolved to consummate their 
victory by erecting a Latin kingdom there, whose swords 
should fur ever defend the Holy Land, which the valour 
of the crusaders had now gained from the infidels. The 
crown of Palestine was refused by Robert of Normandy 
and Robert of Flanders, who might both have made pre- 
tensions to the sovereignty ; the more ambitious Bohemund 
had already settled himself in Antioch,and Baldwin had, 
in like manner, established himself at Edessa. A hero 
who, if only the equal of these princes in valour, and their 
inferior in power, far excelled them in moral qualifica- 
tions, and in a true sense of religion, was next offered 
the crown, by the unanimous consent of all who had been 
engaged in the expedition. This was Godfrey of Bou- 
logne, the foremost in obtaining possession of the city, 
of which he was now declared king. He would, how- 
ever, only accept the title of Defender and Baron of the 
Holy Sepulchre, and, from the same spirit of devout 
modesty, he assumed a crown of thorns, instead ol gold, 
as the appropriate symbol of his authority. 

In about a fortnight the prince was called upon to de- 
fend his newly conquered metropolis against the Calif of 
Egypt, who was advancing in person to revenge its cap- 
ture. They met in the valley of Ascalon, where the 
Egy])tians (inferior to the Turks, whom the Christians 
bad hitherto encountered, in the knowledge and practice 
of war) received a tola defeat. Godfrey having thus 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN. 133 

established and enlarged his new kingdom, proceeded, by 
the general assent of tl)e most experienced persons who 
wore present, to adjust a system of laws, called the Assize 
of Jerusuleu), in which the constitution of the Latin king- 
dom, as it was called, was adapted to the purest feudal 
principles. 

In this manner was established, and thus was regulat- 
ed, the kingdom of Jerusalem, which endured for about 
a century after its establishment in the first crusade, till 
its destruction by Saladin in 1187. During the short 
period of its turbulent existence, this state, composed of 
so many proud and independent barons, who often refused 
obedience to the king of their own choice, underwent so 
many civil convulsions, as rendered their state peculiarly 
unfit to defend itself against the Mahometans, who were 
perpetually bent upon recovering a territory which they 
considered as their own property. Various attempts 
were, however, made to support the Christians in their 
defence. 

One was by the erection of two great societies, or com- 
munities of kniglits, wno took upon them a vow of celi- 
bacy, of poverty, and of obedience to their spiritual 
superiors, but were, in other respects, soldiers sworn to 
defend the Temple of Jerusalem against the Pagans. 
This order of military monks did great service in the 
protection of the Holy Land. But when these Templars, 
as they were called, became wealthy and powerful, it 
appears their manners became corrupted, and their morals 
dissolute ; they were also accused of meditating enter- 
piises promising advantage to their own order, but threat- 
ening danger to lawful Christian monarchs, and to Cliris- 
tianity in general ; so that, under allegations partly proved^ 
and partly alleged, the oi-der, or association of Templars, 
was suppressed, about the year 1312, two hundred years 
after it had been erected. The other association of t!ie 
same kind was called the Knights Hospitallers of St. 
John of Jerusalem, whose first vow was the providing 
hospitality for pilgrims, though, like the Templars, they 



134 DEATH OF GODFREY. 

chiefly devoted themselves to military exploits against 
the infidels. They did not rise to the eminence oi" the 
Templars, nor share in the odium attached to them ; ac- 
cordingly you will see that the Knights of St. .)ohn_ 
under the title of the Knights of Malta, continued theii 
sworn war against the Mahometans till a late period.' 

But besides the support of these two warlike fraterni- 
ties formed for the preservation of the Holy Land, the 
same motives which had made the powers of Europe first 
engage in the original crusade, led to their forming simi- 
lar expeditions from time to time, to the number of five, 
by which great armies passed into Asia, with the purpose 
to delay the fldl of Palestine, or to recover it, when lost, 
to Ciiristendom. These must be mentioned, more or less 
distinctly, in the course of our story. In the meantime, 
we may conclude our history of the First Crusade, by 
mentioning the death of its hero, Godfrey of Boulogne, 
whose virtues and talents had succeeded in giving a tem- 
porary appearance of strength and consistency to the 
dominions conquered by his valour. This event took 
place within a year after the capture of the city. A.D. 
1100. 



WILLIAM THE C0NQ,UER0r'3 SONS. I<i5 



CHAPTER X. 

Dissensions among the three sons of B^illiam the Con- 
querer — The Kingdom of England and Dukedom 
of JVormandy united in the person of Henry, the. 
Youngest — fVar undertaken by Loiiis the Gross, in 
support of the claim of William Clito, nepheiv of 
Htnj-y, to JS^ormandy — Defeat of the French — For- 
tunes of WiUiam Clito — His Death — Death of Louis 
the Gross — Accession of Louis the Young, who un- 
dertakes a crusade, in conjunction ivith Conrade, Em- 
peror of Germany, — they are accompanied by two 
bands of Females, the German Amazons, under a 
leader called the Golden-Footed, and the French 
under (^ueen Eleanor — Disasters of the CrusaJe — • 
Misconduct of Eleanor — Both Monarchs abandon th 
enterprise. 

While the princes and barons of the first crusade 
were establishing in Palestine the little Latin kingdom of 
Jerusalem, various alterations took place in Europe, by 
which the rights of the absentees were materially affected. 
No one suffered more than Robert Duke of Normandy. 
To furnish himself forth for the crusade, this eldest son 
of William the Conqueror had imprudently pawned the 
duchy of Normandy, being the only part of his father's 
dominions which had descended to him, to his brother 
William, called the Red, King of England, for a large 
sum of money. But while Robert was employed in 
cleaving Mahometan champions asunder, and exhibiting 
feats of the most romantic valour, William was privately 
engaged in securing and rendering permanent the tempo- 
rary interest which the mortgage gave him in the fief of 
the duchy, and it soon became evident, that even if Rob- 
ert should be able and desirous to redeem the territory, 
it was not likely that his more powerful brother would 



136 CHARACTER OF HENRY BEAUCLERK. 

renounce the right he had acquired over it. Bu' the 
death of VVilHam Rufus brouglit into play a third sou of 
the Conqueror. This was Henry, the youngest, whom 
his brothers, both Robert and Wilham, had treated with 
considerable severity after their father's death; and re- 
fused him every appanage becoming his rank. Civil war 
ensued among the brothers, and on one memorable occa- 
sion, Henry was besieged by his two brethren, in the 
fortress of Mount Saint Michael, and reduced to the 
greatest extremity for want of water. His distress being 
communicated to Robert, who was always generous, he 
instantly sent him a supply. William, who was of a 
harder and more inflexible disposition, upbraided Robert 
with his imprudent generosity. " What else could 1 do }^ 
answered tlie generous Norman. " He is our brother. 
Had he died for lack of water, how were we to supply 
his loss ?" 

Upon the surrender of the fortress, however, Henry 
was reduced to the condition of a private individual, al- 
though his bravery was equal to that of either of his 
brothers ; his sagacity much superior, and his learning, 
which was uncommon in those days, so considerable, 
that he obtained the name of Beauclerk, or Admirable 
Scholar. 

William Rufus was killed accidentally with an arrow, 
while hunting in the New Forest, which had been so 
unscrupulously formed, or enlarged, by his father the 
Conqueror. Henry, being engaged in the same sport in 
a different part of the forest, and learning this accident as 
soon as it happened, rode in post-haste to London, and 
availed himself of Robert's absence to procure his own 
election to the crown of England, which was affirmed by 
Parliament. Robert, whose elder right of inheritance 
was thus a second time set aside, was at this time in Apu- 
lia, where his marriage with a wealthy heiress had sup- 
plied him with the means of redeeming his Dukedom of 
Normandy. He even preferred a title to the crown of 
England, which was favoured by the Norman barons, the 
companions of the Conqueror. Henry's chief supporters 



WAR WITH HIS BROTHER ROBERT. 137 

were the English, who had been cruelly oppresseii by the 
first William, and with less form and reason tyrannized 
over by William the Red. Henry, on the contrary, at- 
tached the nation to hi5 service and allegiance, by cor- 
recting the abuses of his father's and of his brother's 
administration, and by granting charters, settling the sep- 
arate interests of the vassals and superiors in the fief, and 
thus placing both on a legal and equitable fooling. 

This mitigation of feudal rights was peculiarly agreeable 
to the English, whose sufferings had been most intolera- 
ble, and accordingly secured to Henry tlie crown of that 
kingdom. The extension of freedom was at the same 
time acceptable to the Normans; and Henry began to 
gain partisans even in his brother's dukedom. But the 
sudden return of Robert .from Apulia, recalled to their 
allegiance the wavering faith of his. vassals, and put the 
prudence. of the great Norman barons to a hard alterna- 
tive ; for in the very probable event of war between the 
brothers, as most of the followers of the Conqueror held 
land in both England and Normandy, their English or 
their Norman fiefs must necessarily be exposed to confis- 
cation, according as they should side with Robert or with 
Henry. It was soon found, also, that Robert was rash 
and wasteful, while his brother was the wisest prince of 
his time. A short peace, or truce, did not prevent the 
brothers from engaging in a war, w'hich was decided by 
the battle of Tenchebraie, in Normandy, in which Duke 
Robert was, in spite of the bravery he displayed, de- 
feated and made prisoner. He was thrown into perpet- 
ual imprisonment, but allowed in hi? captivity all the 
pleasures of the table, as well as the atnusement he could 
receive from minstrels and jugglers He was pitied, but 
not regretted, by the people of his duchy, who thought 
with the old chronicle, that " he was a prince of the most 
undaunted courage, and had done many famous things a 
the sieges of Antioch and Jerusalem ; but his simplicity 
rendered him unfit for governing, and induced him to listen 
to light and imprudent counsellors." 



13? WILLIAM CLITO. 

The tingdom oi" England and the dukedom of No^ 
mandy being now united in the person of Henry, as they 
had been formerly in thatof WiUiam the Conqueror, the 
iormer prince became as great an object of jealousy to 
the King of France, his superior, as his father had for- 
merly been. It was indeed contrary to the nature of 
feudal dependence, in a correct sense, that the state of 
vassalage should exist between two princes of equal pow- 
er, because in such a case, instead of the holder of the 
fief considering it a benefit, the possession of which form- 
ed an indissoluble bond of gratitude between the grantoi 
and the possessor, he was, on the contrary, apt to esteem 
himself more degraded than enriched by the tenure, and 
his imagination was eternally at work how he might shake 
off even his nominal dependence on one whotn he prob- 
ably held his own inferior. Tliere were, therefore, on 
account of their mutual jealousy, constant bickerings, and 
several actual wars between Henry of England, and Louis, 
who, in his latter years, acquired the surname of the 
Gross, from the largeness of his size. 

The most formidable w-ar which the latter monarch in- 
cited against the King of England, had for its pretext the 
interest of the youth, William Clito. This was the only 
son of the captive Robert Duke of Normandy, in whose 
behalf the King of France not only took arms himself, but 
instigated several of the great vassals of the crown to en- 
gage in the same cause. A very great number of the 
barons and knights of Normandy were privately enlisted 
in the design of placing the ducal coronet, which had been 
his father's, upon -11)0 head of a deserving son. Henry 
passed over to Normandy to defend his rights in that fair 
duchy against William Clito, his nephew, and carried 
with him a gallant army of English, as well as Normans. 
Louis, the French monarch, at the head of the forces of 
ihe confederates of young William, also known by the 
name of Longsword, from the weapon which he wielded, 
advanced towards Rouen, and found himself unexpectedly 
in front of the English. 

YDung Longsword, well worthy of his descent, and of 



BATTLE OF RODEN. 139 

The formidable epithet by which he was desigiialed, charg- 
ed the van of the English army so fiercely as to throw 
chem into disorder. But Henry advanced with his own 
noLisehold troops, and restored tlie engagement. In those 
days the generals themselves ahvay? fouglit amongst the 
foremost. William Crispin, a gallant knight, attacked 
King Henry personally, dealing him two strokes with the 
sword, wliicli, though repelled by the temper of the royal 
helmet, yet beat the metal flat on his head by main force, 
and caused the blood to gush from nose and mouth. 
Henry either received timely succour from a gallant Nor- 
man baron in his ranks, or else struck Crispin down with 
his own hand. The life of the brave knight was with 
difficulty saved. The French were completely defeated 
in this action. As the combatants were, many of them, 
friends and neisfbhours, no o;reat loss was sustained in the 
flight ; and even during the shock of battle, only tl)ree 
ki)iglits were slain, though many were taken. The King 
of France lost his horse and his standard. Henry ran- 
somed ihern from the captors, and keeping the banner as 
an horioiirali'e trophy, returned the steed to his royal 
owner, logetlier with that of William Clito, which had 
been taken by his son. These courtesies led the way to 
a peace hii^^bly advantat^^eous and honourable to the King 
of England. (A. D. 1120) 

Louis of France, at this peace, conceded a point of 
great consequence to the King of England. Henry had 
refused to pay homage for Normandy, as had been the 
custom of the successors of Rollo, and of his own father 
and brother, William tlie Conqueror, and William the Red, 
and as was, indeed, the just right of Louis to demand. 
Such rendering of homage, said the King of England, 
was unworthy of a royal person, Louis plainly saw 
wliere this pointed, and that it was the object of Henry 
to sliake himself entirely free of his feudal obedience ; 
and this consc"ousness liad made him more anxious H 
support the claims of William Clito, or Longsword. But 
now, finding the events of war turn against him, Louis 
reluctantly consented that William, the only son of Henry, 



140 DEATH OF henry's SON WILLIAM. 

should be invested with the fief of Normandy, and do 
homage for that fief, aliliough aware, doubtless, that by 
this transaction Henry would retain in his own iiands all 
the power and wealth of the duchy, while he would 
escape the oaths and obligations of the vassal, by the 
interposition of his son in this character. 

But the sudden turns of fate disturb the wisest plans ol 
human policy. The young prince William of England 
perished at sea; with him died the project of an interme- 
diate vassal in the fief of Normandy ; and so the plan of 
acconniiodation fell to the ground. The King of France, 
temi)ted by the desolate situation of Henry, who was now 
without a son, renewed his intrigues with William Clito. 
He caused this young prince to be married to a daughter 
of the Count of Anjou, with whom he received in dowery 
the county of iVJaine. Established thus in a powerful 
seigniory near the frontiers of Normandy, to which his 
birth gave him so strong a title, William Clito, found it 
easy to form once more a great confederacy ajjainst Hen- 
ry, among the nobles ot\ that dukedom. The Kin,y: of 
England's usual prudence, mixed with a shade of that 
good fortune which prudence alone can render availing, 
gave Henry again the ascendence over his enetnies. He 
obtained a complete and easy victory over the insurgent 
nobility, of whom some were made captives, and treated 
with rigour. (A. D. 1124.) Luke de Barre, a Norman 
knight of some talent, was an instance of this severity. 
He had been formerly made prisoner by Henry, and gen- 
erously dismissed. Notwithstanding tliis lenity, he not 
only rebelled a second time against the King of England, 
hut had composed satirical ballads in ridicule of him, and 
recited or sung them in public. Such affronts excite 
more bitter resentment than real injuries. The unlucky 
poet, having fallen a second time into the hands of the 
irritated monarch, was condemned to lose his eyes. But 
he struggled so hard with the executioners who came to 
carry the sentence into force, that he dashed out his brams 
against the walls of his dungeon, and thus peiished Tvo 



nORMAN INSURRECTION SUPPRESSED. 14J 

Other insurgent nobles sustained the same doom of having 
their eyes put out, and others were imprisoned. 

Ti'iumpliant in Normandy, Henry now sought revenge 
on the king of France, and used for this purpose the assist- 
ance of Henry V., Emperor of Germany, to whom Matil- 
da, the monarch of England's only ren)aining cliildj had 
been for some years married. The Emperor retained re- 
sentment against Louis, because he had permitted a bull, 
or writing, by which the Pope excoinmunicated tiie Em- 
peror, to be published in his archiepiscopal city of Rheims. 
He assembled an army from the German states, and 
threatened to enter France, and burn Rheims, where he 
had sustained such an affront. But tlie invasion of France 
by a German army, v,'as not viewed with indifference 
by the great vassals of the former country. Even the 
barons who had private quarrels with their monarch 
Louis, or private confederacies with Henry of England, 
acted as obedient vassals of France upon this occasion,, 
and Louis found no difficulty in assembling during 
this emergency an army of two hundred thousand men. 
To give them additional ardour in this great national 
conflict, we hear, for the first time, in this war, of the 
Oriflamme, or Great Standard of France, being displayed, 
This was a flag of crimson, attached to a gilded lance, 
from which it drew its name, which implies a golden 
flame. The Emperor Henry, unprepared to encounter 
such- an army, retired before the Oriflamme, and the im- 
mense body of men assembled around it. Louis would 
then wilhngly have employed so gallant a host in driv- 
ing the King of England out of Normandy, and settling 
William Clito in that province. But the great vassals of 
France, whose retainers formed the greater part of the 
army, refused to serve in a quarrel which they rathei 
accounted personal to the king, than essential to the king- 
dom ; and were alarmed, moreover, lest the weight which 
success might give the crown in such an enteri)rise, might 
cause it to become too powerful for the liberty of the 
vassals, of v.-hich they v.'ero strictly tenacious. 

The Emperor Henry V. died soon after this war, and 



142 ENGLISH CROWN SETTLED ON MATILDA. 

Henry of England recalled to his own court the widowed 
Empress Matilda, his daughter, and formed the bold plan 
of appointing her the heir of his dominions, as 'the sole 
successor of his blood. (A. D. 1125.) This was an 
attempt of a novel and haixly kind, for the genius of tho 
times was averse to female succession. It was with tlieni 
a maxim, that, as it was only the male heir who could 
do battle or give counsel, so it was only he who could 
render service for the fief either in war, or in the courts of 
the superior where the vassals assembled. This feudal rule 
seemed to exclude the Empress Matilda from succeeding 
her father in the dukedom of Normandy, and in England 
the settlement of the crown on a woman was yet unheard 
of. Henry, however, by the high interest which he pos- 
sessed among the English clergy and barons, induced the 
parliament of that country, after long deliberation to 
agree that his daughter should succeed to the crown on 
his death. 

In Normandy, Matilda's succession to the dukedom was 
rendered yet more precarious than in England, by the 
opposing claims of William Clito, to whose father, Duke 
Robert, the fief had lawfully belonged. Indeed, the fate 
of this high-spii'ited and high-born prince was chequered 
with strange alternations of fortune, wliich seemed fre- 
quently to promise to elevate him to the utmost height 
of his wishes, but as often disappointed his expectations. 
Thus, at one time, Henry's infiuence with the Pope, pro- 
cured from the head of the church an unexpected decree 
of separation between William Clito and his wife Sybilla, 
in whose right he held the earldom of Maine, and once 
more reduced him to poverty and dependence. But on 
the other hand, Louis the Gross, partly with a view to 
iraverse the measures of bis antagonist King Henry, partly 
out of a generous compassion for a prince of exalted birth 
and distinguished merit, whom fortune had defrauded of 
his birthright, promoted this fi'iendless youth to a marriage 
as advantageous as that wdiich the Pope had cancelled. 
The second wife of William Clito was a sister of the 
Queen of France, whose dowery was the province called 



EOKTUNES OF WILLIAM CLITO. 143 

\he Vexin, with three adjacent towns. S!)ort]y art:er\'-''ard3 
the young prince succeeded to the rich and imporUirit 
earldom of Flanders, on the murder of Cliarles, caijed 
the Good, who was killed while hearing mass, and even 
in the act of prostration, by some of his own rebeliious 
subjects. (A. D. 1127.) The King of France iiurried 
to Bruges, where the deed had been coinmitted. and 
having taken the murderers after a long sie^e, caused tliem 
to oe precipitated from the ramparts. He then* conferred 
the earldom of Flanders upon William Cllto, whom he 
had so long relieved and protected, and whom he now 
raised to a more hopeful state, with respect to dominion 
and revenue, than he had ever yet attained. The new 
Earl of Flanders seems to have had a good right by blood 
to be the head of this important province, being a great 
grandson of Baldwin Vll. 

Henry, alarmed by seeing his nephew thus in possession 
of the wealthy and powei'fui earldom of Flanders, began 
to bethink himself by what means he might best strength- 
en the title of his daughter to Normandy, which, in case 
of his own decease, must needs experience risk and oppo- 
sition from the power of William. Clito. For this pur 
pose, he resolved to accomplish a marriage betwixt 
Matilda and Geoffrey, the heir of Fulk, Earl of Anjou 
This house of Anjou had obtained the family title oi 
Plantagenet, because the above-mentioned Fulk, while 
fighting in the crusades at the head of a hundred knights 
wliom he maintained in that holy warfare, had, in sii;n ol 
humility, worn in his helmet a sprig of broom, (in Latin, 
humilis s^enista,) which circumstance somewhat inconsist- 
ently gave a name to one of the haughtiest families t!iat 
ever wore a crown, and became the successors to that of 
England. Fulk, the reigning Earl of Anjou, received, 
at the time of his son's marriage with Matilda, an invita- 
tion to succeed Baldwin II. in the precarious dignity of 
King of Jerusalem. liis sense of religion, and love of 
fame, would not allow him to prefer the wealth and safety 
of his coronet as Earl of Anjou, to the dangers and diffi- 
culties of the crown of thorns. He surrendered to hie 



144 DEATH OF WILLIAM CLITO. 

son GeoftreY the possession of bis ample dominions of 
AnjoUj Touiaine, and Maine; and having seen him unit- 
ed with the Empress Matilda, departed for the Holy 
Land. 

Henry I., fortified by so strong an alliance, conceived 
himself now able to find his nephew William Clito occu- 
pation in his new earldom, so as to prevent his resuming 
his pretensions to Normandy. He therefore stirred up a 
German prince, Theodoric, Landgrave of Alsace, to pre- 
fer some claim to the county of Flanders, and to support 
it with arms. William Clito defended himself with equal 
skill and courage. A plot being formed to murder him, 
it was betrayed by a young woman with whom he had 
an intrigue. The girl was engaged in washing her lover's 
head, when by sighs and tears which escaped from her 
involuntarily, he conceived an alarm of his danger. Hav- 
ing extorted from the young woman the cause of her 
distress, he immediately provided for her safety by send- 
nig her to the charge of the Duke of Aquitaine, his 
brother-at-arms. With the same alacrity he armed him- 
self, without even waiting to comb his hair, and attacked 
the conspirators so alertly as to force them to take shel- 
ter in the castle of Alost, where he besieged them. The 
Landgrave, his competitor, advancing to raise the siege, 
when the garrison was reduced to extremity, engaged in 
an action with Longsword's forces, in which he was at 
first successful. But William Chto, in person, charged 
at the head of a body of reserved troops, and defeated 
his German opponent. With the same alacrity the spir- 
ited prince returned to the gates of Alost, whei-e a party 
of tlie besieged were in the act of sallying to the assist- 
ance of the Landgrave. They were instantly charged, 
and driven back. But in this slight rencontre, as the gal- 
lant young count endeavoured to parry with his hand the 
thrust of a pike made by a private soldier, he was 
wounded in the fleshy part between the forefinger and 
thumb. The appearance of the hurt was trifling, but his 
arm swelled, and the wound turned to a gangrene, of 
which he died in the space of five days. He was a prince 



CORONATION OF LOUIS LE JEtNE. .4-5 

rejenibiing his father, Robert Curt-hose, in bravery and 
warlike fame, resembhng him also in the continued evil 
fortune which pursued him ; but unlike his father in that 
respect, we cannot find that his misfortunes had any source 
in his own rashness, carelessness, or misconduct. It is 
said, that the aged and blind Duke Robert, still a misera- 
ble prisoner in England, started from his bed in a dream, 
m which a soldier appeared to him, who, wounding his 
arm with a pike, exclaimed that his son was slain. Wil- 
liam Clito was much regretted by the King of France, 
whose faithful adherent he had been ever since he began 
to distinguish himself in the world ; this firm union, as 
well as elite's pretensions to Normandy, having afforded 
the readiest means of embarrassing Louis's formidable 
rival, King Henry. 

Amidst ceaseless though petty wars, and constant 
thouo-h fluctuating neo;otiations, Louis VL became aged, 
and his corpulence, which constantly increased, and pro- 
cured him the surname of the Gross, affected his alert- 
ness both of body and mind. He endeavoured, accord- 
ing to the custom of the house of Capet, to supply his 
own deficiencies, by associating with him on the throne 
his eldest son Louis, a youth of great hopes. (A. D. 
1129.) But his father did not long enjoy his assistance 
in the affairs of government, grown too weighty for his 
own management. Riding in the streets of Paris, not 
many months after his coronation, the strange accident 
of a black pig running among his horse's feet, cost the 
young king a severe fall, the consequence of which he 
did not survive many days. (A. D. 1131.) The clergy 
pretended, as usual, to see in the singular death of this 
prince a judgment of God upon his father for refusing 
some requests of the prelates ; and in particular, for de- 
clining to grant the royal pardon, and to restore the 
effects to one of their number who had been guilty of 
treason. 

Deprived of his eldest son, the king raised to the 
ihrone instead his second son, called Louis le Jeune^ in 
940 



146 DEATH OF liOUIS THE GROSS. 

order to distinguish iiim from his father. Tliis prince 
was crowned at Rheims by Pope Innocent himself, wlio 
had at that time retired into France, to seek refuge from 
the resentmeni of the emperor, with whom he had many 
quarrels. Afiei a short time, the old king, finding his 
health continue to decline, surrendered his power alto- 
gether to his son. As he delivered his signet to him for 
this purpose, he used these just and excellent words : 
"■ Take this symbol of my sovereign power ; but never 
forget it is only a public trust, for the exercise of which 
you will hereafter be called to the most strict account 
before the King of kings." After this virtual resignation, 
he never again assumed the ornaments or pomp of roy- 
alty. Yet he lived to witness an event in his family, of 
the deepest interest. This was the marriage of his son 
Louis with Eleanor, daughter of William X. Duke of 
Guienne and Aquitaine. This nobleman having died 
while engaged in a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. .James 
of Compostella, his daughter succeeded to his extensive 
territories. On her marriage with Louis VIL, she was 
crowned Queen of France. Shortly afterwards, Louis 
the Gross died, his constitution yielding, it is said, to the 
extreme heat of the season. (A. D. 1137.) 

The reign of Louis the Young, as he was called, being 
eighteen years old at his father's death, commenced, as 
was generally the case in the French monarchy, with 
violent commotions among the nobility and great vassals 
of the crown. Having been unwillingly subjected to the 
authority of a prince like Louis VL, who, notwithstand- 
ing his corpulent habit of body, was perpetually in ac- 
tion, and at the head of his troops : these dignitaries now 
thought the minority of a young prince a convenient time 
to recover a part of their exorbitant power. Thibault, 
Fiarl of Champagne, one of the most artful intriguers and 
nu'bulent agitators of the period, engaged himself in 
forming conspiracies among the nobility, for abridging the 
privileges, and diminishing the authority, of the crown 
Enraged at the sinister intrigues of this factious nobleman 
whose power was increased by his brother, Stephen ol 



BURNING OF THE CATHEDRA! OF VIT RT. 141 

Mortagne, having usurped tlie throne of England, from 
Matilda, daughter of Henry I., the king ravaged his coun- 
try of Champagne witli imprudent and unrelenting sever- 
ity. Tlie town of Vitry was taken by assault ; and the 
cathedral, containing thirteen hundred persons, who had 
fled tliither as to an inviolable sanctuary, was delivered to 
the flames, with all who were within it. 

Louis was of a fiery, yet of a religious disposition. Tho 
cruel deed was scarce done, but it was repented of; and, 
besides the massacre and conflagration of Vitry, Louis 
conceived that he had other sins to be pe^iitent for. The 
conviction that he had committed a great and most inhu- 
man crime, was mingled with the reflection that he had 
offended the Pope, by refusing to receive, as Archbishop 
of Bourges, a priest called Pierre de la Chatre, chosen 
to that office by the chapter of the see, without the royal 
license. The consciousness of these two offences, one 
of a deep dye, and one founded in the superstitious pre- 
judice of tlie age, distracted tl)e mind of the young prince. 
He laid the state of his conscience before Bernard, Abbot 
of Clairvaux, (afterwards canonized as Saint Bernard,) a 
divine of strict morals, venerated for his good sense, 
learning, and probity, and incapable of substituting evil 
counsel for good, as far as his own comprehension of 
good and evil reached, but from the excess of his 
zeal, and his devotion to the service of the church, suf- 
ficiently apt to be misled by prejudices and passions. 
This churchman, availing himself of the remorse which 
agitated tlie king's heart, both on account of his cruel 
action at Vitry, and his disobedience to the Papal See, 
took the opportunity to press upon the afflicted mind of 
Louis, that the best and only effectual atonement for liis 
misdeeds, would be a crusade to the F]oly Land, under- 
taken with a force strong enough to restore the Latin 
kingdom of Jerusalem, now pressed on every side by the 
numerous nations of infidels amongst whom it held its 
precarious existence. Upon the earnest exhortations of 
St. Bernard, who pledged his word for the fortunate issue 
of the expedition, Louis le Jeune, was induced to assume 



148 LOUIS UNDERTAKES A 

the Cross, and determine on an expedition to the relief 
of the Holy Land, with the whole strength of his king* 
doin. At a great parliament, or assemhly of the repre- 
sentatives of the French nation, which was, on account 
of the number who attended, held in the open air, Louis 
took from the hands of Bernard, a cross, which had been 
consecrated at Rome for his particular use. The Counts 
of Toulouse, of Flanders, of Nevres, of Ponthieu, and 
many others of the great vassals, followed the example 
of their sovereign. The gentry and nobility took arms 
in emulation of each other ; and those who assumed the 
cross, sent a distaff and scissors to such as chose the wiser 
part of remaining at home, as if to upbraid them with 
cowardice and effeminacy. 

The same spirit spread to the court of Conrade IIL, 
Emperor of Germany, where the martial spirit of the 
people favouring the zeal with which the clergy preached 
the crusade, that prince assembled an army of at least 
fifty thousand men-at-arms, without taking account of 
Infantry and light cavalry. Among these was a hand of 
women, armed like Amazons, riding in the fashion of 
men, and armed in like manner. The female who led 
this band acquired, from her gilded spurs and rich bus- 
kins, the title of the golden-footed. It may be well 
imagined, that a band so composed might show the un- 
bounded zeal of the nations that furnished the crusaders, 
but it could not add to the foi'ce, and still less improve 
the discipline, of the army. It was, indeed, the curse 
of these expeditions, though undertaken on a religious 
principle, to comprehend among the adventurers they 
sent forth, not only a multitude who expected by such 
service to merit pardon for past offences, but many more 
of debauched and infamous habits, who looked for little 
besides the pleasure of practising, unpunished, tlie gross- 
est vices, ami(ist the profligacy of an ill-regulated camp. 

In the French host, the part of tiie golden-footed lady 
was performed by no less a personage than Eleanor her- 
self, to whom Louis le Jeune had been married a short 
uhlle before his father's death. She had an ample in- 



CRUSADE rO THE HGLY LAND. I-ID 

heritance in her own right, as the heiress of hor father 
-the Duke of Aquitaine, wliich, adding to the arrofance 
of a character naturally intractable, induced her to Jisfc 
her own pleasure in taking a personal share in this ad- 
venture, though her presence and behaviour seem to have 
acquired little credit either to her husband or herself. 

The Queen of France was attended by a large band 
of llie youtli of both sexes. Some gallant damsels were 
mounted on horseback, in masculine fashion, like the Ger- 
man Amazons, while a chosen band of the gayest and 
most noble young men of France assumed the title of 
Queen Eleanor's Guard. It may be easily supposed that 
pilgrims, of such an a^e and such manners, were more 
likely to promote the gaiety than the discipline of this 
pious undertaking. The expedition, however, excited 
the highest hopes throughout Christendom, which were 
doomed to meet with a woful reverse. 

Louis left his dominions during his absence to the care 
of his relative and favourite, the Earl of Vermandois, 
and that of Suger, Abbot of St. Dennis. The latter, 
though a churchman, entertained more clear political 
views than those of St. Bernard, of Clairvaux. Unlike 
the practice of his order, Suger distinguished himself by 
using every rational persuasion to deter the king from the 
ruinous undertaking of the crusade. And altliough he 
failed to divert him from his purpose, Louis remained 
satisfied that no man could be more fit to be employed in 
the administration of France, during the absence of the 
sovereign, than Abbot Suger. 

The crusade now began to set forward. The Ger- 
mans were the first who advanced into Greece, and they 
were received by the reigning emperor, Manuel Comne- 
nus, with as much apparent good-will, and still more 
secret and active hostility, than his predecessor Alexius 
had nourished against the first crusade. This treacherous 
prince assigned the strangers false guides, by whom they 
were induced to take up their quarters on the bank'' of 
the unwholesome Melas, a river which consists only o'' 



150 TREACHERY OF THE GREEK EMPEROR. 

mud during summer, and forms a sea in the cou.-se of 
winter. Here the natural progress of disease, caused by 
swamps and unhealthy exiialations, was augmented by 
bad provisions, such as meal adulterated with lime, sup- 
plied to them by their treacherous allies. False and 
worthless coinage w^as also circulated amongst them, and 
no secret artifice spared, by which the formidable num- 
bers of these simple devotees might be diminished and 
wasted. This usage of the emperor of Greece was the 
more atrocious, that he was connected with Conrade, 
whose forces he thus undermined and destroyed, in the 
character of a relative, as well as ally, as they had mar- 
ried two sisters. The facts are, however, proved against 
the treacherous Grecian by the evidence of Nicetas, an 
historian of his own language and country. The object 
seems to have been, that, by aiding in the destruction of 
these large armies of crusaders, the Greeks hoped and 
expected to hold the balance betwixt them and the Sara- 
cens, and thus attain the superiority over both the powers 
whom they feared. It is even certain that Manuel Com- 
nenus entertained a secret, but a close alliance with the 
Saracens, and that he transmitted to them intelligence of 
the motions of the enemy. 

The host of France, under its young and valiant mon- 
arch, now arrived m Asia, and by precaution or good 
fortune escaped a great number of the snares and dangers 
which had been spread for the Germans, by the treachery 
of the Greeks. In the meantime, Conrade, who had 
proceeded under the conduct of false or ignorant guides, 
though he found no formal opposition, yet lost what re- 
mained of his forces in detail, by skirmishing with the 
light Turkish cavalry, who were perfectly acquainted 
with the country, and accustomed to endure the heat of 
the climate under which the Germans sank by squadron? 
at a time. At length, with forces totally discouraged, 
and greatly diminished, the German Emperor took the 
resolution of falling back on his friend and ally, the king 
of Franco whose army, as yet, retained an appearance 
of order. The two monarchs embraced with tears of 



DISASTERS OF THE SEC IND CllUSADE. 151 

sorrow, and remained for some time unable to give venl 
to their feelings. It was proposed they should proceed 
in company towards Palestine. But the German troops 
were so much reduced, that it no longer became the dig- 
nity of the emperor to remain at their head ; and he took 
the resolution of returning to Constantinople, where he 
was more kindly received by Manuel, in his misfortunes, 
than he had been when in his prosperity. 

The route of the French army who proceeded ir^theii 
undertaking, was na\v opposed by a serious obstacle. A 
large army of Turks, on the opposite bank of the ]\]a?an- 
der, lay determined to defend the passage of that river. 
It was neither fordable, nor was there bridge, shipping, 
or other mode of crossing. At the command of the king, 
the vanguard of the French plunged gallantly into the 
stream, and fortunately finding it shallower than had been 
reported, half-swimming, half-dragging each other for- 
ward, they attained the opposite bank, when the Turks, 
too much astonished for resistance, sustained a decisive 
and bloody defeat. Yet in the future progress of the 
French, wherever the advantage of ground was on their 
opponent's side, the light-armed archers of the Turkish 
army wasted the Christians in many a bold skirmish ; so 
that, notwithstanding their original numbers, the crusaders 
suffered extremely ere they made any effectual progress 
in Asia Minor. 

Indeed, the battle on the Masander was the beginning, 
and well-nigh the end, of the success of the Christians. 

The Saracens and the Turks had now become accus- 
tomed to the warfare of the Latins in the Holy Land, 
understood their mode of fighting better than in the days 
of Godfrey of Boulogne, and shunned all encounters with 
those iron warriors of the west and north, while they fa- 
tigued their unwieldy strength by ambuscades, alarms, 
skirmishes, and all the vexatious harassing of light-armer' 
troops. These important advantages, derived from expe- 
rience, were entirely on the side of the Mahoinetans, foi 
the soldiers of the second crusade were as heavily armed 
and as unacquainted with the Eastern mode of skirmish- ^ 



f52 DISASTERS OF THE SECOND CKUSADE. 

ing as their predecessors of the first. The infidels, on 
the other hand, took advantage of every mistake, and on 
one occasion had nearly destroyed Louis and Iris whole 
array. 

The French marching in two divisions, in order to cross 
a ridge of mountains near Laodicea, Louis, who con- 
ducted the rear-guard in person, directed the officer who 
led the van, to halt on the summit of the chain of hills, 
and abide there till the second division came up. But 
Geoffrey de Rangon, who commanded this division of the 
army, was tempted, by the supposed absence of the ene- 
my, and t[ie fertility of the plain beneath, to march down, 
leaving the summit of the ridge undefended, and giving 
the Turks, who were on the alert, an opportunity of oc- 
cupying the passes in great force. 

Thus Louis, when he had reached with the rear-guard 
the summit of the mpuntain, where he' expected to rejoin 
the vanguard of his army, found himself involved in a 
numerous ambuscade of the infidels, who attacked him 
unexpectedly, with those dreadful yells with which it is 
their custom to begin battle. The Christians, taken by 
surprise, were thrown into disorder, especially as the 
broken and craggy ground was totally unfit for the action 
of heavy armed cavalry, which were the flower of their 
arrhy. The unfortunate Louis displayed great personal 
courage, and rallied his forces-by his own example. His 
exertions were at first in vain ; for, though he forced his 
way to the very summit of the hill, he was soon left 
almost alone, surrounded by the enemy, many of his 
bravest knights being slain at his feet. ]n this emer- 
gency, finding himself at the foot of a rock, Louis climbed 
up a tree, which grew slanting out of the face of the 
precipice. The Turks discharged their arrows against 
him in vain ; his armour of proof kept him safe, while 
he defended himself with his sword from the more close 
attack of such as attempted to climb into his place of 
refuge, lopping off their hands and heads with little diffi- 
culty. Tiie night becoming darker, he was at lens^th 
•eft .ilone. In the morning he was extricated from his 



QUARRELS OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 153 

perilous situation by the countermarch of a part of his van- 
guard. But he had lost in this unfortunate encounter more 
than twenty thousand men in slain, wounded, and prisoners. 

The day following this disastrous action, Louis pro- 
ceeded to Attalia, (the capital city of Pampliylia,) amidst 
constant skirmishes and great hardships. The natives, 
who were Christians, though tributary to the Turks, dared 
neither oppose nor assist tlie invaders. In order to rid 
themselves of the crusaders, they offered to convey them 
to Antioch by sea. At Attalia, therefore, the king and 
his nobles and knights went on shipboard and set sail for 
the principality of Antioch, which Bohemund had found- 
ed at the time of the first crusade, but which was now 
ruled by Raymond de Poitiers, a Latin prince, who re- 
ceived the king with demonstrations of the utmost respect 
and kindness. Louis, however, regarded his attentions 
and civility with distrust, conceiving it to be Raymond's 
secret object to obtain the assistance of the French troops 
in protecting and enlarging his own territory of Antioch, 
and for that purpose to interrupt their journey to Palestine. 

While the choicest part of the French army which 
accompanied Louis himself had reached Antioch, those 
who were left behind at Attalia, made repeated attempts 
to rejoin their monarch, both by land and sea. They 
were successful by neither mode of passage ; and so un- 
fortunate was their last march, so humbled the pride and 
resolution of the soldiers of the Cross, that three or four 
thousand of their number not only surrendered to the 
infidels, but embraced the Mahometan faith, and fought 
against the cause they had left their country to defend. 
The few renmants of this part of the army which reached 
Antioch, came as stragglers, unfit for military service, 

JNleantime, besides the grief and mortification attending 
these losses and misfortunes, the mind of Louis had sub- 
jects of domestic anxiety, or at least he thought so. The 
conduct of his queon, who, as we have noticed, accum 
panied the crusade, became such as to give great dis- 
pleasure to her husband. They had, as we have already 

mentioned, been kindly received in the city of .\ntioch, 

J* 



f54 QUARRELS OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 

of whicli Raymond de Poitiers was the sovereign. This 
prince was a near relative to the queen, and one of the 
handsomest and most acconipllshed persons of- his time. 
He did his utmost to make himself agreeable to his royal 
guests, and the French authors say, that with the queen 
at least, he succeeded too well. Being her uncle, and a 
tuarried man, it is equally possible that the jealousy of 
Louis le Jeune may have imagined grounds of suspicion 
which had no real existence. Nevertheless, the king left 
Antioch, and retreated to his own army, bearing his queen 
along with him, under such circumstances of haste and 
concealment, as argued much doubt of the loyalty of his 
host. Otlier historians say, that Louis entertained well- 
grounded jealousies of a Turk, whom they call Saladin, 
a mai\ of low rank, a minstrel, and a juggler. It is at 
least certain that the king was jealous ; and that the 
queen, presumptuous and arrogant, was little disposed, in 
her pride as a great heiress, to submit herself to his hu- 
mour. Great animosity arose between them, and Eleanor 
began to desire a separation, for which she founded a 
plausible reason upon their relationship to each other, 
being within the prohibited degrees, a pretext which the 
Catholic Church on many occasions sanctioned as a 
lawful cause for divorce, when the real cause was some- 
thing very different. Louis, a scrupulous and bigoted 
•prince, was in some degree moved by the conscientious 
motives which Eleanor seems only to have affected. 

The bad effects of these dissensions were for some 
time suspended, by the condition in which the royal pair 
were placed. • The King of France had still around him 
the flower of his nobles and army, who had come with 
him b}' sea from Attalia, while the wretched residue was 
left to perish under the walls of that city, or in the ad- 
jacent deserts. The assistance of Raymond had enabled 
Louis to remount his chivalry, and he was desirous, even 
at this late hour, to do something which should make 
memorable his expedition to Palestine. 

Having at length penetrated to Jerusalem, the French 
monarch resolved, with the assistance of the Christians 



SIEGt 01 DAMASCUS. 155 

of Palestine, and the military orders of the Temple and 
St. John, to besiege the city of Damascus, an object very 
far inferior to the grand schemes which inspired his liopes 
at the outset ; yet still a matter of consequence, and one 
which, even in his reduced state, the j)ower of Louis 
was still adequate to achieve. But, by misconduct or 
treason, the CIn-istians were induced to abandon the 
attack, which they had judiciously commenced on the 
weaker side of the city and to remove their army to an- 
other post, where it was opposed to walls of greater 
strength, and where it was much more difficult to supply 
tlie besiegers with provisions. In short, the strength of 
the crusaders was wasted and misapplied ; success became 
impossible, and the siege of Damascus was raised, with 
no profit and little honour. 

Repeated disasters and disappointments had now sub- 
dued the hopes of the most sanguine of the crusaders ; 
and all prepared to abandon an enterprise, to which, 
though undertaken in the name and cause of religion,. 
Providence seemed to give no encouragement. 

The Emperor Conrade and the remnant of his Ger- 
mans first withdrew from the scene on which they were 
the first to enter, and reached their own country without 
farther disaster. Next, the French nobles began to re- 
tire individual!}^, or, as it were, steal back one by one 
from the ill-omened enterprise. King Louis alone seem- 
ed yet to nourish the lingering hope, that he might cover 
his retreat with some action of credit, and it was not till 
he was alai'med with tidings of commotions in France, 
th-^t he resolved to desert Palestine, where he had been 
unable to acquire even a single hamlet or a foot of land. 
Upon this pressing summons Louis returned to his king- 
dom with the wretched remains of his army, having his 
domestic relations enibittered by the most dishonourable 
suspicions, both sources of distress flowing out of the 
same frenzy which dictated his celebrated crusade. Yet, 
such was the infatuation with which the mind of Louis 
dung to that extravagant undertaking, that, when passing 
through Rome on his return from the Holy Land, he was 



156 RETURN FROM THE HOLT LAND. 

earnest with the Pope that he should authorize St. Ber- 
nard of Clairvaux to preach a new crusade, wliicli he 
offered to join in person with a large army, and- thus to 
renew the unhappy expedition in which he had suffered 
.such loss of men and of reputation. From this proposal, 
we are led to suppose, either that the conflagration and 
massacre of Vitry had made an indelible in)pression on 
the mind of Louis, or that he was naturally of a charac- 
ter so perversely bigoted, as to shut his eyes even against 
that sort of experience which is bought by the most se- 
vere suffering. 



CHAPTER XL 

Divorce of Louis and his Queen, Eleanor — Marriage 
of Eleanor and Henry Planiagener, by ivhich her 
Possessions ivere added to those of a powerful rival 
of Louis — Litrigues of Louis to weaken the Power 
of Henry — Accession of Henry to the English Throne 
— Contract of Marriage betiveen the so7i of Henry 
and daughter of Louis — Rupture between these Mon- 
archs on Henry^s asserting a Right to the Earldom of 
Toulouse — Their Reconciliation — Schism concerning 
the Election of the Pope, in which the Kings of France 
and England espoused the side of Alexander HI. — 
Odium incurred by Henry on account of the Murder 
of Thomas a Reelect — League, with Louis at its head, 
against Henry — The Confederates compelled to re- 
treat — Peace concluded — Death of Louis. 

The excellent administration of Suger, the Abbot of 
St, Dennis, had maintained the affairs of Louis le Jeune 
n a reasonably good condition at home, notwithstanding 
the absence of the king, with the great portion of his 
Icrces, which he had so imprudently led to tiie distant 
wars of Palestine, But when the news arrived that the 
«vhule, oi" almost the whole, of that huge army had per- 



DIVORCE OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 157 

ished, witlioiit a single feat of any kind, which could add 
honour to ilieir nation, excepting the single action of the 
Meeander, the general voice of the nation accused the 
king of incapacity ; and it was suggested, amid the burst 
of universal discontent, that, like some of his predecessors, 
the reigning njonarch should be dethroned, and commit- 
ted to a cloister. The Comte de Dreux, brother of 
King Louis, who had returned from the Holy Land a 
short time before him, had greatly contributed to the 
increase of the national displeasure, by intrigues which 
had for their object his brother's crown ; and it was the 
rumour of such practices which recalled Louis from Syria, 
after a protracted stay in that country. These dissen- 
sions between the royal brothers were with some diffi- 
culty composed, so soon as the return of Louis had ren- 
dered the Cointe de Dreux's plans desperate. But there 
remained the rooted quarrel between the king and his 
wealthy and haughty wife Queen Eleanor, which now be- 
gan to assume the appearance of an open rupture. Without 
supposing, with the French historians, that Louis had 
actual grounds for his jealousy, it is certain he w'as an 
object of personal dislike to his wife, who declared that 
his rigid morals and ascetic devotion were those of a monk, 
not of a cavalier, and expressed for him an aversion 
mingled with contempt, which, on his part, was calculated 
to excite a strong suspicion that she entertained a prefer- 
ence for another. Louis seems also to have shared in 
the scruples, which Eleanor only affected, respecting 
their too near relationship, and both the royal consorts 
began to consider the dissolution of their marriage as de- 
sirable on many accounts. 

The sagacious Abbot of St. Dennis foresaw, thai in 
gratifying his own and Eleanor's personal dislike, by con- 
senting to a separation, Louis must inevitably subject him- 
self to the necessity of restoring the ample dominions of 
Aquitaine, which the princess had inherited from her fa- 
ther ; and the far sighted minister might also reasonably 
fear, that, once at liberty, she might confer them, along 



158 ELEANOR REINVESTED HEIRESS 

with lier hand, on some one whose possession of so fair J\ 
portion of ilie territory of France might prove dangerous 
to the sovereign, and tliat the king must, therefore, act, 
very imprudently in giving way to the restitution by con- 
senting to the divorce. For these reasons, the Abbot 
Suger bent the whole of his pohtical genius to acconmio- 
date matters between Louis and tl)e queen, and although 
he was unable to accomplish the desired reconciliation, 
he found means to prevail on them to live together on 
decent terms, until death deprived Louis of his services. 

Soon after this event, the royal pair openly declared 
themselves desirous of a separation. In the motives al- 
leged on the king's side, nothing was said of the reports 
against Eleanor's character. But in secret Louis justified 
his conduct to those who censured him for parting with 
liis wife, along with the unavoidable necessity of restoring 
iho duchy of Aquitaine, by alleging the irregularity of her 
lile, and dishonour of being comiected with her. A coun- 
cil of the French national cliurch held at Baugence, 
Laving taken cognisance of the scruples of conscience 
enteiiained, or affected, by the royal pair, and having 
considered their nearness of blood, declared their mar- 
riage unlawful, though it had already subsisted more than 
sixteen years, and although two daughters, who had been 
the fruit of tlie union, were by the sentence rendered 
illegitimate. The decree of the Council of Baugence, 
was confirmed by the Pope ; and the marriage between 
LiOuis and Kleanor was accordingly formally annulled. 
Louis had now ample time to remark, and perhaps to 
regret, the consequence of his imprudence. 

Kleanor was reinvested as heiress to her father in Gui- 
enne, Gascony, Poitou, and other extensive territories be- 
longing to his didcedom of Aquitaine. Nevertheless, 
though having once more the po\Aer of bestowing an am- 
ple property with her hand, Louis flattered himself thai 
her behaviour had been so scandalous, that there was not 
a gentleman in the kingdom so poor in fortune and spirn 
as to take her to wife, though sure thereby to become 
Duke of Aquitaine. He was much deceived j for his late 



OF AQ,UITAINE. 159 

consort had, even before her divorce was concluded, se- 
cured for herself a second match, and that with a prince 
rich in present possessions, yet more so in future expecta- 
tions ; and, what must have been peculiarly gratifying 
to Eleanor's vindictive temper, to a prince, the increasing 
whose strength was, in fact, tlie diminishing that of Louis, 
to whom the" object of her second choice was, by birth, a 
natural opponent. In a word, the person on whom she 
fixed her election was Henry Plantagenet, eldest son of 
Matilda, sole surviving child of Henry 1., King of Eng- 
land, and heir to his mother's pretensions to his grand- 
father's kingdom. 

You cannot have forgotten that Henry had declared 
Matilda, the widow of the Emperor Henry V. of Ger- 
many, the heiress of his kingdom and strengthened her 
right, by choosing for her second husband Geoffrey Plan- 
tagenet, Count of Anjou. But the object o[ Hemy^ I. 
was for some time thwarted by the ambition of Steplien, 
Earl of Mortagne, who forcihly set aside the rights of 
Matilda and her son, and intruded himself into the throne, 
where, for a period of sixteen years, he supported him- 
self by his own bravery, and the swords of a great body 
of barons, to whom the confusion of a civil war was niore 
profitable than the good order and strict government of a 
lawful monarch and a profound peace. In 1146, the 
fortune of war had passed so much to Steplien's side, 
t4iat the Empress Matilda, with her son Henry, who 
though a mere youth, began to show strong symptoms of 
the wisdom and courage which afterwards distinguished 
him, were compelled to retreat to Normandy, which 
Geoffrey, the husband of INlatilda, and fatlier of Henry, 
then ruled as duke, in right of his vvife. Upon the pro- 
posal of the Earl of Anjou, that his wife and he should 
cede their right in Normandy to their son, the King of 
France was prevailed upon to admit young Henry as vas- 
sal into tile duchy of Normandy, on consideration o( his 
surrendeiing a frontier district of that province, called 
the Vexin. which Louis considered as a cession of such 
importance, that, by way of acknowledgment, he aided 



60 MARRIAGE OF ELEANOR 

Henry with a body of troops for putting him into posses- 
sion of the rest of the fief. (A D. 1150.) 

Louis had hardly received Henry Plantagenet as anew 
vassal in tlie duchy of Normandy, when he had a quarrel 
with Geoffrey, Earl of Anjou, that prince's father ; and 
repenting what he had done in Henry's behalf, he invited 
to Normandy, Eustace, son of King Stephen, promising 
to assist him in possessing himself of that same duchy, 
although he had so lately granted the investiture to Henry. 
The prudent advice of Suger, who then still lived, bi'ought 
about an accommodation of these perplexed affairs. A 
suspension of arms was agreed to ; young Eustace was 
sent back to England, highly incensed at the usage he 
received from Louis ; and Henry's right to Normandy 
was once again fully recognised. 

Presently after this accommodation, Geoffrey, Earl of 
Anjou, died. To Henry he left his earldoms of Anjou, 
Touraine, and Maine, under the condition, that in case 
he should obtain full possession of his mother's royal in- 
heritance of England, he must become bound to cede the 
French dominions of Anjou to his second brother, named 
Geoffrey after his father. (A. D. 1151.) 

Thus, at the period of the divorce of Louis, when 
Eleanor cast her eyes upon Henry Plantagenet to be her 
second husband, he was, in actual possession, Duke of 
Normandy, Count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and 
therefore no unfit mate for the heiress of Aquitaine. But 
the circumstances attending a diminution of rank from 
that which she held in her first marriage, were mortifying, 
to say the least. We cannot therefore doubt, that the 
iirilliant prospect of the crown of England, to which 
Henry had so just a claim, supported by a strong party 
rif friends in that kingdom, had no slight share in recom- 
mending her second choice to the ambitious Eleanor. Jrt 
other respects, there was some inequality. The bride- 
groom was only twenty years of age ; the bride had 
attained the riper period of thirty, and upwards. But, in 
the case of so wealthy an heiress, Henry did not let his 
taste for youth interfere with his sense of interest. As 



AND HENRY PLANTAGENEl 161 

lO the scandals propagated concerning Eleanor at the 
French court, Henry treated, or affected to treat, them 
vvitli an indifference and contempt, which perhaps they 
justly deserved. 

By her union with Henry, Eleanor conferred on him 
the two duchies of Guienne and Gascony, with the earl- 
dom of Poitou, and their extensive dependencies. (A. 
D. 1152.) His subjects in these new dominions regard- 
ed the choice of their duchess with applause ; for the 
character of Henry, both for courage and pi-udence, stood 
as high as that of any prince then living, while the mis- 
fortunes of Louis in the crusade had tarnished his char- 
acter ; and his simplicity in parting with Eleanor, and 
thus throwing so rich a prize into the hands of an hered- 
itary rival, was so generally felt, that it is said by some 
historians, that the epithet o^ le.Jeune, or the Young, was 
conferred on him for his w^ant of prudence on this occa- 
sion, and not merely to distinguish him from his father. 

The scales fell from the eyes of Louis when he per- 
ceived to what a height of power Henry Plantagenet had 
been raised by this unexpected match. He became, of 
new, impatient to weaken, or rather to ruin him. For 
that purpose, the French King engaged in a league with 
his brother the Earl of Dreux, with Eustace, son of 
King Stephen, with the Earl of Blois, and with Geoffrey 
Plantagenet, Henry's own brother, for the purpose of de- 
spoiling the young Duke of Normandy of his dominions, 
and dividing them amonf;; themselves. 

But this iniquitous league had no better success than it 
deserved. Henry at once protected his own country of 
Normand}?^ against th.e confederates by whom he was in- 
vaded, and extinguished an insurrection which his brother 
Geoffrey had excited in Anjou. The latter prince, whose 
defection was equally unreasonable and unnatural, was 
compelled to m.ake the most' humble submission. To the 
admiration of all, Henry's conduct, notwithstanding his 
youth, was equally marked with the political wisdom a;id 
sagacity which prepare for success, and with the firmness 

950 



162 ACCESSION OF HENBY II. OF ENGLAND. 

and audacity, whicli seldom fail to command it. He en- 
deavoured, by every degree of decent resjoect and be* 
coming moderation, to give Louis a fair j)retence of with- 
drawing from a war which had already disgusted him with 
its want of success. But, ere the negotiation between 
them was entirely concluded, a crisis arrived, which de- 
manded the attention of the younger prince elsewhere 
Henry received intelligence from England, that Walling- 
ford Castle, the most important of those fortresses which 
were yet held by his family partisans in that kingdom, 
was now closely besieged by King Stephen, w'hile the 
governor, Brian Fitzcompte, sent word to Henry, de- 
manding either relief, or permission to surrender the cas- 
tle. Leaving the greater part of his forces to defend his 
French dominions, in case of any renewed attempt from 
the confederates, Henry embarked for England with three 
thousand infantry, and a hundred and fifty chosen knights. 
His presence, though with so small a body of forces, re- 
vived the spirits of his confederates. Malmesbury, War- 
wick, and thirty castles of inferior strength, surrendered 
to the son of Matilda, and grandson of Henry. The civif 
war was revived throughout England with fury, when it 
was suddenly put a stop to by the death of Eustace, son 
of Stephen. The death of this young man, for whose 
interests, as his successor, his father Stephen had main- 
tained the contest, removed a great impediment to peace, 
which was accordingly concluded on moderate terms. 
Stephen, now aged and childless, was allowed to retain 
the crown during his lifetime, on condition that he adopt- 
ed Henry for his son, heir and successor. This arrange- 
ment having settled the succession of England in favour 
of Henry, he returned to the continent with the same 
speed with which he had come from thence, in order to 
prepare against the attempts of Louis, who, always ma- 
levolent to his divorced wife's second husband, was 
threatening to renew the war in France to embarrass his 
treaty with Stephen. For this purpose, too, the French 
king excited commotions in Aquitaine. These were 
soon appeased by Henry, on his arrivals and he contrived 



PRUDENT POLICY OF HENRY II. 163 

by some acceptable services performed to the King of 
fVance, in his quality of Duke of Normandy, to render 
5ven the suspicious Louis once more satisfied with his 
conduct as a dutiful vassal. 

Henry was soon after established on the English tlirone 
by tlie sudden death which removed from that situation 
his competitor, Stephen, whose whole reign had. been a 
continued civil war, which had its source in usurpation, 
and was carried on with much fury and bloodshed, as 
well as incalculable detriment to both the kingdoms. 
Thus possessed of as much real power, and of more 
wealth than the King of France, Henry H., with a sagac- 
ity which overcame all desire to display his superiority, 
proposed a match betwixt his eldest son. Prince Henry, 
and Margaret, daughter of Louis le Jeune, by his second 
wife, Constantia, Princess of Castillo, whom he had mar- 
ried, after tlie declaration of the Council of Baugence 
had annulled his union with Eleanor of Aquitaine. 

The prince and princess were mere children : but it 
was customary in those days to arrange contracts of 
mari'iage betwixt persons of their station many years 
before the age of the contracting parties permitted them 
to be carried into effect. Henry, affecting to consider 
himself as the honoured party in this union, lavished 
valuable gifts on all about the French court, whose good 
opinion or favourable sentiments could forward his nego- 
tiation. "His liberality extended itself even to the doc- 
tors of the university of Paris, the students, and the 
principal citizens. In every case of ceremony or eti- 
quette, it was tlie policy of Henry to pay Louis the most 
ceremonious attention ; and to disguise, under the obser- 
vances of a respectful vassal, that formidable autliority 
which must otherwise have rendered him an object of 
suspicion and jealousy to his lord paramount. He even 
gratified Louis's passion for a holy war, engaging to assist 
that monarch with all his forces, in a crusade to be direct- 
ed not against the infidels of the east, but for the pur- 
pose of driving the Moors out of Spain. Henry, how- 
ever, who only meant to flatter the King of France, 



164 HENRY LAYS CLAIM 

extricated himself from the execution of his engagement, 
by persuading Pope Adrian, with whom he had secret 
influence, to express disapprobation of the undertaking. 

But while punctiliously accurate in rendering all re- 
spectful homage to Louis as his sovereign, the English 
monarch was cautiously enlarging his own territories, and 
adding to his real power. He exerted authoritatively his 
rights as lord paramount over Bretagne, which, since the 
time of Rollo, had been a feudal dependence on Nor- 
mandy, and he negotiated for a fresh surrender of the 
Vexin, that district which his mother Matilda had yielded 
up to Louisas the price of his own first investiture of the 
dukedom. This strong frontier he stipulated should be 
the dovvery of the Princess Margaret. And in other 
cases where actual power could be attained, or a desira- 
ble object of ambition offered itself, Henry never allowed 
this ceremonious deference to the will of his superior to 
interfere for an instant with its gratification. Thus, in 
1159, the King of England resolved to assert a pretended 
right to the city and earldom of Toulouse, as a fief and 
dependency of the dukedom of Aquitaine, wh'ch had 
been pledged to the present earl by Queen Eleanor's 
father, and which, in quality of her husband, he now set 
up a right to redeem. This claim, weak in point of 
justice, he resolved to make good with the arms of Nor- 
mandy, Guienne, and England. Raymond, Count of Tou- 
ouse, the crown vassal, thus threatened, applied to the 
King of France, whose sister he had married, for protec- 
tion against a prince, whose forces he was unable to 
resist ; and Louis, on offering his interposition, was 
startled to find t!iat Henry, so deferential and tracta- 
ble in matters of small importance, was pertinacious 
in an equal degree in objects of magnitude. Louis 
had nearly been convinced of the real character of his 
vassal in a manner highly un pleasing. Determined to 
support Count Raymond against Henry, the King of 
France threw himself into the city of Toulouse, with 
a handful of soldiers, trusting that veneration for hts 



TO TOULOUSE. 165 

person would withhold his vassal from any attempt on the 
city where he raised his own standard. Henry's forces 
were in readiness for the siege, and most likely he might, 
hy a sudden attack, liave made himself master of Toulouse, 
and of the person of Louis, thus imprudently liazarded 
within it. The question was debated in Henry's council, 
when some statesmen insisted on the sanctimonious re- 
spect which was due to the lord paramount. They were 
answered by the unscrupulous Becket, then chancellor, 
and a favourite minister of Henry : " Advance banners," 
said he, " my noble liege, the King of France laid aside 
his title to your obedience as a vassal, the instant he lev- 
elled a spear against you." Henry listened with a long- 
ing disposition to follow the uncompromising advice of 
the daring statesman. But he reflected tliat he was him- 
self at the head of an army assembled only by his feudal 
power, and that it would be perilous to show in his own 
person any contempt for that fealty to the superior, upon 
which his own authority rested. There was also to be 
considered the risk of ofllending all the crown vassals of 
France, who were likely to witness with resentment the 
in)prisonment of their common liege lord the king, by one 
of their own number. Upon the wI)ole,with that exquis- 
ite prudence which regulated Henry's conduct, he turned 
reluctantly aside from the siege of Toulouse, alleging as 
a motive the respect he entertained for the person of the 
lord paramount, who was within tliecity. (A.D. 1159.) 
Louis was flattered by his moderation, and peace was 
shortly afterwards made, on condition of Henry retaining 
considerable conquests, made at the expense of the Count 
of Toulouse, to whom he granted, at the request, as he 
carefully stated, of the King of France, a truce for the 
short space only of one single year. 

The two monarchs were so thor^oughly reconciled, as 
to admit of their acting in concert concerning a matter of 
great importance to Christianity. You are to understand, 
that the Emperor of Germany had down to xh\< period 
always claimed the right of nominating, or, at lea'^t of 
confirming, the appointment of the Popes to the Bishop 



166 DISPUTED ELECTION OF POPE. 

ric of Rome. This high privilege they exercised, as it 
descended to them with the empire of Charlemagne. It 
was often disputed by the Popes, who were e^itremely 
desirous to deprive a laic prince of a privilege which they 
alleged was inconsistent with the liberties of the church, 
and contended that the election of the Pope lay in the 
choice of the College of Cardinals. By their obstinate 
opposition, supported by many wars, the popes had de- 
prived the emperor of almost all vestige of this privilege. 
But a double and disputed election having occurred in 
1160, (A.D.,) the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa took 
upon him so far the right of his ancestors, as to summon 
a council of the church to determine which of the two 
candidates, Alexander 111. or Victor IV., was lawfully 
elected to the Holy See. Frederick declared in favour 
of Victor, which induced the kings of France and Eng- 
land, jealous of so high an exertion of authority on the 
part of Germany, to espouse the cause of his opponent. 
Tlieir favoured candidate Alexander came in person to 
France, where he found Henry and Louis in arms to de- 
fend his cause, in case the emperor should attempt to 
support Victor by force. The two kings received him 
with the respect due to the head of the churcii, that is, 
with tokens of the utmost deference. They walked in 
person each by a stirrup of the pontiff's saddle, as he 
rode towards a magnificent tent, in which he was accom- 
mcdated. " It was a sight," says the Catholic historian 
Baronius, " for God, angels, and men, — a triumjih such 
as had never before been seen in this world." Alexan- 
der afterwards held a great council of the church at the 
city of Tours. But the emperor, and the kings of the 
north of Europe, remained determined in their election 
of Victor, and the schism tliat arose from the dispute di- 
vided Christendom into two factions, and deluged Italy 
with blood. Alexander was so far grateful to his adher- 
ents, that he lent his intercession to place on a surer 
footing than it had yet assumed, the peace between the 
two kinffs. 



THOMAS A BECKET. 167 

Hitherto there had been little sincerity in the apparent 
good understanding between Henry and Louis, and we 
have mentioned many wars between them, interrupted by 
truces, which though the patience and prudence o( Henry 
sometimes soothed Louis's suspicions for a time, never, 
or seldom, failed to be succeeded by new subjects of dis- 
agreement. In all these disputes, Henry, more prudent, 
more wealthy, above all, more fortunate, had either by 
war or negotiation, or both, enlarged his own territories at 
the expense of those of Louis. But in the latter part of 
this great king's life, the clouds of adversity seemed to 
gather round him, and fortune, as is frequently the case, 
turned from him when his hairs became grey. A very 
serious part of Henry H's. misfortunes arose from his 
disputes with his ancient minister and favourite, Thomas 
a Becket. 

This wily churchman had been able to conceal his real 
character from Henry, by appearing in an assumed one 
while serving as his chancellor, very nearly after the 
manner in which the English monarch himself had occa- 
sionally persuaded Louis that he was a faithful and de- 
voted vassal to the French crown. At this period, as we 
have partly seen, the See of Rome was making the widest 
and most fatal encroachments upon the authority of the 
temporal princes of Europe, and Henry was naturally 
desirous of making the best stand he yet could against 
the extravagant claims of the Church of Rome. It was 
of the utmost consequence in this species of contest, 
that the see of Canterbury should be filled by a prelate 
favourable to the monarch, and willing to countenance 
his interests in any discussions he might have with the 
Pope. Henry thought, therefore, tliat when the Arch 
bishopric of Canterbiuy became vacant by the death of 
the incumbent Theobald, he could not secure his own in- 
terest better, than by raising his chancellor, Becket, to 
rhat situation. This minister had always seemed to pos- 
sess the manners of a soWier, a statesman, and a poli- 
tician, rather than of a churchman. We have already 
seen, tliat he entertained no scruples in advising the king 



IG3* ELEVATION, AND DEATH 

to bold and arbitrary measures against his lord paramount, 
Louis; and, judging from his conduct before Toulouse, 
Henry expected from him no opposition to his will in 
matters where a more zealous pi'imate might, perhaps, 
have given him trouble, by interference in any differences 
vvliich might arise with the Pope. 

But no sooner had the king, with considerable diffi- 
culty, obtained the election of his favourite to the arch- 
bishopric, by the monks of Canterbury and the suffragan 
bishops of that see, than he was presently satisfied what 
an unhappy choice he had made of the head of the An- 
glican church. Becket, who had hitherto concealed, 
under a cloak of apparent loyalty and devotion to his 
sovereign, as much ambition as ever animated the breast 
of a proud man, now affected an extremity of zeal for 
the rights and privileges of the Church of Rome, as the 
mode by which he intended to rise to the dignity, per- 
haps, of the papal tiara itself, and distinguished himself 
by the audacity which he displayed on all possible ques 
tions in which he could assert the immunities of the 
church against the prerogative of the king. The par- 
ticulars of their various and obstinate quarrels must be 
looked for in 'the history of England, where it forms an 
interesting page, and not in that of France, which we 
are now engaged with. Suffice it to say in this place, 
that Thomas a Becket having carried to the uttermost his 
opposition to tiie king's authority, Henry, whose temper 
was impatient and hasty, was at last induced to express 
himself thus inconsiderately : — " Have I no faithful ser- 
vant who will rid me of this upstart and arrogant priest?" 
Pour knights of his royal household, men habituated to 
blood and slaughter, caught at the hint contained, as they 
apprehended, in these rash words. They rode to Can- 
terbury, and after some exchange of threatening language; 
slew the archbishop at the foot of the high altar, where 
he was officiating 

Although the king had no concern in this rash and 
desperate action, excepting the blame of having spoken 
uiaJvertently the rash words by which it was occasiontid, 



OF BECKET. 169 

he suffered the vvlnle evil consequences which could have 
attached to the voluntary author and instigator of such 
an impiety. The cruelty of the actors was compared 
with tlie courage of the sufferer, who, whether sustained 
by his personal courage, or by the sincere belief that he 
was acting in the faitliful discharge of his duty, had dis- 
played the most undaunted composure throughout the 
whole bloody transaction. Superstition added to tlie 
terrors of the deed, and Becket was pronounced, not 
merely an innocent churchman, slain in defence of the 
privileges of his order, but a pious saint, who had been 
murdered in the cause of Heaven and Christianity. The 
credulity or the craft of the monks, his contemporaries, 
saw in their late suffering brother a glorified martyr, at 
whose tomb, and at the place where he was slain, the 
sick were cured, the blind received sight, and the lame 
walked. All these gross exaggerations were believed at 
the time, and the king was overwhelmed by the torrent 
of odium which he suffered on account of Becket's death, 
insomuch that he was fain to yield up the honourable, 
manly, and able defence, which he had hitherto made 
against the papal usurpations, in order to obtain a recon- 
ciliation with the church on the most unfavourable con- 
ditions. 

By these articles, the king was obliged to pay a large 
sum of money, and engage in a crusade against the infi- 
dels, either in Palestine or Spain ; above all, to permit, 
what he had hitherto strongly resisted, an appeal to the 
Pope in all things ecclesiastical. He became bound to 
restore the friends of Becket to his favour, and finally, to 
discharge a most humiliating and disgraceful penance, in 
evidence of his sorrow for the rash words which proved 
the cause of the murder. 

Louis, King of France, was not idle during an interval 
when his ancient enemy's usual good fortune seemed to 
desert hiin, and when the boasted sagacity of Henry ap- 
peared entangled with embarrassments, from which it 
EouH not extricate him. The French king was neilhei 
8 \0L. K 4th Ser. 



17U DISSENSIONS IN HENRy's FAMILY, 

•slow in seeking out a just cause of quarrel, nor in the 
choice of means by which to prosecute it. He at first 
pretended displeasure against Henry for having caused 
his eldest son to be crowned in England as successor to 
that kingdoin, while the wife of that young prince, Mar- 
garet, Princess of France, was still in her native country. 
But Henry deprived Louis of that pretence for a rupture, 
by expressing his willingness to repeat the ceremony of 
coronation. 

The King of France then adopted a more subtle, but 
certainly most unjustifiable mode of assailing an adversary 
who had proved too powerful for him while he followed 
the ordinary rules of open hostility. Louis requested 
the presence of his daughter and his son-in-law, the 
younger Henry, for some time at the French court. The 
English princes of the Norman race were never remark- 
able for domestic affection ; and, from the time of the 
Conqueror downward, it had been no unusual thing in 
that house to see the son in arms against the fatl)er. 
Louis, therefore, found no. great difiiicuhy in insinuating 
into the mind of the younger Henry, that his father kept 
ihe throne too'lon^, and did not indulu;e him, though 
crowned, with a sufficient share of independent power. 
When the young prince returned to England, he instilled 
the same spirit of unnatural ambition into his brothers, 
Richard (afterwards the renowned Coeur de Lion,) and 
Geoffrey ; John, the fourth and youngest brother, was not 
of age to take a share in the family quarrel. But Queen 
Eleanor, the mother of the princes, had been for some 
time dissatisfied with the share which the king allowed 
to her in his counsels and affections ; and as we have al- 
ready alluded to her arrogant and vindictive disposition, 
you must not wonder if she took all the means in her 
power to inflame the bad passions of her three elder sens, 
and induce them to unite in a league with the King of 
France against their father. 

The pretext used by Louis le Jeune for thus setting 
up the title of the son against the father, was, that when 
Henry called the young king, was crowned, Henry II. 



CONFEDERACY AGAINST HENRY II. 171 

was, by ihe same ceremony, deprived of tne sovereign 
power, which was thereby translerred to his son. Yet 
Louis knew, that the coronation of a sbn during his fath- 
er's hfetiine was by no means to be understood as infer- 
ring the vacation of the throne on the part of the latter, 
but only an acknowledgement of the son's right in the 
succession to the authority which the father continued to 
hold during his life. 

The King of Scotland was engaged in the same con- 
federacy, and several of the great barons of England were 
ripe for rebellion. This formidable league was entered 
into at a time when Henry was on the worst terms with 
the Pope, and odious to all 'the priest-ridden part of his 
subjects, on account of the death of Becket. It was even 
thought, so general was the disaffection, that Henry II. 
would have had difficulty in raising an army among his 
feudatories. But he had been a prudent economist, and 
now made the treasures he had amassed the means of 
saving his throve at this conjuncture, without trusting to 
those vassals who might have* betrayed his cause. He 
hired a large body of German mercenaries, men who now 
for many years had gained a living by their swords, and 
who were ready to embrace the cause of any prince in 
Europe who required their services, and was willing to 
pay for them. 

At the head of these forces, and seconded by his own 
admirable rapidity of action, which was so great, that 
his antagonist,' Louis, confessed that the English prince 
seemed rather to fly, than to sail or to march, Henry took 
the field. He opposed himself every where to his ene- 
mies, defeated the rebels, and, offering battle to the great 
head of the confederacy, had the pleasure to see Louis 
le Jeune retreat before him, with much abatement of 
honour. Henry brought his mind also, in the midst of 
these difficulties, to submit to the most degrading part 
of the penance inflicted on account of Becket's death , 
not, we may well suppose, that so wise a prince could 
really have entertained compunction for the very slight 
share which he had in the death of a rebellious and tur ., 



172 PENANCE PERFORMED BY HENRY Tt. 

bulent piest, but because he was a\vare of the in erest 
he would gain in the hearts of his people, by their sup- 
posing him fully reconciled with Heaven, for what they 
considered a great crime. 

Wlien the king came within sight of the tower of the 
Cathedral of ( /anterbury, he dismounted from horseback, 
and proceedea to the shrine of Becket, barefooted, over 
a flinty road, which he stained with his blood. When he 
kneeled before the tomb of his old enemy, whose life had 
cost him so much trouble, and whose death had been yet 
a deeper source of embarrassment, he submitted to be 
publicly scourged by the monks of the convent, and by 
other churchmen present, from each of whom he received 
three or four stripes on his bare shoulders. In conse- 
quence of these, and other austere penances, Henry in- 
curred ,a short fit of illness. But he appears to have 
conceived tlsat he had entirely reconciled himself with 
Thomas a Becket ; for, as that person became rather a 
fashionable saint in foreign countries, Henry, on more 
than one occasion, accompanied to the shrine several per- 
sons of high rank, who came from the continent to wor- 
ship there, acting thus as a sort of master of cerem.onies 
to his former chancellor, whom, indeed, he had the prin- 
cipal hand in raising to his state of beatitude. Notwith- 
standing all this apparent submission, Henry retained in 
private his own opinion on Becket's conduct. A bishop 
having raslily and hastily exconmiunicated one of his no- 
bles, the king advised his prelates to avoid precipitance 
on such occasions. " There may be more bishops killed 
for their arrogance," said the king, significantly. " than 
the calendar of saints can find room for." 

To Louis le Jeune, who was soon tired of wars, if long 
protracted and unsuccessful, it appeared that the good 
fortune of Henry was returning in its usual high tide, and 
it was consistent with his own character, to ascribe it to 
the reconciliation of his enemy with Thomas a Becket. 
It is certain that, a very few days after his penance_ 
Henry received tidings of an action near Durham, in 
which William, King of Scotland, became prisoner to his 



Louisa's proposal of a crusade. 173 

hvrrihern barons ; and, in the very same year, Louis had 
himself a nearer instance of Henry's reviving good for- 
tune, when the English monarch relieved Rouen, then 
closely besieged, and compelled tlie joint armies of France 
and Flanders to retire from before it. 

This chain of events had a practical effect upon the 
king of France. He sent ambassadors to treat for peace, 
to which Henry, satisfied with his success, and conscious 
at what risk he had won it, willingly assented. He set- 
tled liberal appanages upon the three young princes, 
Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey, and endeavoured to secure 
their affections in future, by even profuse allowances of 
domains and revenues. 

The greatest satisfaction which Louis received from a 
peace, in which all the objects for which the war was un- 
dertaken were relinquished, was the hope that Henry 
might.be induced to join him in a mutual crusade; so 
fondly was his imagination, though now that of an aged 
man, bent upon the subject which had occupied his youth. 
Henry, on his i)art, was under the necessity of apparently 
consenting to this wild proposal ; for it was a part of the 
penance enjoined him for the death of Becket, that he 
should take the cross and pass to the Holy l^and, wh.en- 
ever commanded to do so by the Pope. The Pontiff, 
therefore, having joined the solicitation of Louis, it was 
not in the King of England's choice to evade the sum- 
mons. Regulations were accordingly adopted between 
the two tnonarchs, for arranging their mutual relations, in 
the manner most suitable to the success of their under- 
taking. There is little doubt, however, that Henry, 
though the authority of the Pope was at piesent too 
great to be openly disputed, was secretly determined to 
take every opportunity, or pretext, that might occur, to 
postpone, and finally to evade, carrying into actual effect 
ihis useless and perilous expedition. 

The French King, on the contrary, was perfectly se- 
fious in his idea of renewing conjoined with Henry, thr! 
rash and ruinous attempt o his youth, and w'as deter* 



174 * CORONATION OF PHILIP, 

mined to provide for the government of his kingdom in 
his absence, by crowning his son Phihp, a youth of the 
highest expectations, as his associate and successor in the 
.rvencli throne. 

A singular circumstance prevented the ceremony : The 
young prince, Philip, who was to be the principal actor 
in it, was separated from his attendants, while on a hunt- 
ing party, in the Forest of Compeigne, lost his way 
among the wild and solitary woods, and wandered there 
dll night. The youth was exhausted by fatigue, and se- 
verely affected by the agony of mind which he had 
undergone. The consequence was a dangerous illness. 
The remedies of Louis le Jeune, for every emergency, 
were always tinged with superstition ; and, in the hope 
of aiding his son's recovery, he vowed a pilgrimage to 
the popular shrine of Thomas a Becket, where he paid 
his devotions with valuable offeri,ngs, and, among others, 
a grant to the convent of a hundred tuns of French wine 
annually, — an acceptable provision, no doubt, for the 
comfort of the monks. (A. D. 1179.) He instantly 
returned to France, and was escorted by King Henry, as 
far as Dover. On reaching home, he found his son re- 
covered, the renown of wliich greatly added to the resort 
of pilgrims to the tomb of Thomas a Becket. . 

The sickness was, however, only transferred irom the 
son to the father, for Louis himself was struck with a 
palsy. The coronation of Philip took place soon after- 
wards, though his father could not be present, and it was 
remarkable that Philip, weak from his late illness, being 
oppressed witli theweigtit of the crown, Henry the young- 
er, of England, lent his assistance to support it upon the 
young kmg's head. With what internal feelings he might 
perform this feudal service, may be at least doubtful ; for, 
in case of the death of this, the only son of Louis le 
Jeune, the same Prince Ffenry, if his wife, Margaret, 
should be found capable of succession, was next heir to 
the crown he sustained, at his brother-in-law's coronation. 
In the next year, Louis le Jeune died. (A. D. 1180.) 
He was a prince of many excellent personal qualities 



AND DEATH OF LOUIS LE JEUNE. 175 

Didve, well-meaning, temperate, and honest ; but he was 
neither a general nor a politician, and his devotion was 
of so superstitious a character, that, while his conscience 
scrupled to transgress the most trivial forms, he could, on 
the first important occasion, if policy seemed to rende- 
it advantageous, break his Aiith without scruple, in mat- 
ters of the most weighty moral obligation. 



176 CHARACTER OF PHILIF 



CHAPTER XII. 



Accession, and wise Measures of Philip — Death of 
Henry of England, and Accession of Richard Cotur 
de Lion — Philip and Richard unite in a Crusade to 
the Holy Land — State of the East at this period- 
Siege of Acre — Dissensions among the Leaders of 
the Crusade — Philip's return to Europe — Splendid 

■ Achievements of Richard — his Recall to Europe — 
his Lnprisonment, and Liberation — his War with 
Philip, and Death — Accession of John — Philip's 
double Marriage — Cruelty of John in suppressing an 
Insurrection of his jYephew Arthur in Guienne — the 
aggrieved Parties complain to Philip, who takes the 
field, and deprives John of the whole of his pos- 
sessions in France — In consequence of this success, 
Philip gains the title of Augustus, and resolves to 
conquer England — Dispute between John and the 
Pope — Philip declares himself the Champion of the 

■ Pope, and assembles a large Army to invade England 
— John^s submission to the Pope — Philip turns his 
arms against Flanders, but is worsted — Confederacy 
against the increasing power of France, between King 
John, the Emperor Otho, and the Earls of Flanders, 
Boulogne, Toulouse, and Auvergne — Defeat of the 
Allies at Bouvines — Philip's Treatment of his Pris- 
oners — Truce, with England — Crusades against the 
Albigenses — Unpopularity of King John — The Bar- 
ons of England offer to transfer their Allegiance to 

• Louis, the son of Philip — Louis's Invasion of Eng- 
land — Death of John, and Accession of Henry III. 
— Defeat of Louis at Lincoln — He withdraws his 
claim to England, and, retiring to France, engages 
in a Crusade against the Albigenses — Death of Philip. 

Philip, the son of Louis le Jeune, was a prince pos- 
sessing so many kingly qualities, that, in French history 



JESTERS EXPELLED FROM COURT. 171 

lie is distinguished fiotn other inonarchs of the same 
name, by the imperial title of Augustus ; and not unjust- 
ly, since it was chiefly by his means that the royal house 
of France recovered that influence in their empire which, 
during the life of Louis, had been in a great measure 
overshaded, by the predominance of the house of Anjou, 
whose power, carefully augmented by the wisdou) of 
Henry II., had placed that monarch in the situation rather 
of a rival than a vassal of the King of France. On 
Philip's accession to the throne, he was not yet fifteen 
years of age ; and it is probable he felt that his extreme 
youth, joined to the feebleness of his father's character, 
was likely to render the authority of the crown contempti- 
ble, unless respect was to be ensured to it by the firm- 
ness and gravity of the prince who wore it. 

Accordingly, the first public measure of Philip was 
one of a more severe character than could have been 
expected from so young a monarch. All jesters, jugglers, 
and buffoons, whose idle occupation it was to encourage 
dissipation and misuse of time, were banished from tiie 
court by a solemn edict, which the king caused to be 
rigorously enforced. By this his people learned that 
their young king proposed to assume the masculine gravity 
of a more advanced age, and remove from about his per- 
son all incentives to the light taste and unprofitable follies 
of youth. 

In another of his early measures, Philip consulted, in 
an eminent degree, the advantage of his subjects and 
realm. The constant wars of France, a country which 
seldom remained at rest for a year together, without the 
assemoling of forces upon some pretence or olher, had 
given occasion to the association of numerous vagrant 
bauds of men, whose profession was arms, a^d who, 
without any regard to tlie cause in which they served, 
or the monarch to whom they rendered obedience, were 
ready to engage tlieir skill and valour in behalf of any 
prince who was willing to employ them. They were, 
generally, experienced and approved soldiers, and piqued 
themselves on maintaining strict fidelity during the terms 
951 



178 DISPERSION OF MERCENAB7ES. 

of their engagement, and serving with loyalt) the prince 
to whom they were hired. Such mercenaries, were, 
therefore, a needful but perilous resource during'this time 
of constant war, and even the politic and sagacious Henry 
II., when hard pressed by the league formed against him 
by Louis le Jeune, found his safety in recruiting his ex- 
hausted army with great numbers of these mercenary 
bands. But although a necessary, at least a prompt and 
useful resource to princes in time of war, nothing could 
be more oppressive to the people in the season of peace, 
than the existence of numerous bands of various nations 
leading an idle and dissolute life, at the expense of tlie 
oppressed peasantry, and breaking every law of regulat- 
ed society, without a possibility of bringing them to jus- 
tice except by a pitched battle. Where their depredations 
were withstood, they naturally drew their bands closer 
together, laid the country under contribution, and obliged 
the cities, on peril of assault and pillage, to pay large 
sums for their maintenance. These troops of lawless dep- 
redators were distinguished by the names of Cotteraux, 
Braban^ons, Routiers, and Tavardins. Philip commanded 
his soldiers to assist the burghers of the good towns 
against these disorderly freebooters, and he himself en- 
gaged and defeated them in one great action, in which 
nine thousand were slain in the battle and flight. By 
these exertions, this wasting plague of the country was 
in a great measure checked and reformed, although it 
continued to be an. existing grievance until a much later 
period of French history. 

With the same attention to the public advantage, Philip 
compelled the citizens of the large towns to pave their 
streets, and to surround their cities with walls and forti- 
fications, so as to ensure the power of repulsing the at- 
tacks of these roving brigands. The burghers disliked 
the expense of labour and treasure laid out upon this nn- 
portant object. But the king in person made a circuit 
around the cities of his kingdom, to enforce the execution 
of his wholesome edicts, and at the same time reduced to 
order such of the nobility, as, availing themselves of the 



"JEATH OF HENRY S ELDEST SON. 179 

late king's illness, had been guilty of usurpation upon 
each otlier, or encroachnienl on ihe autlioiity of the 
sovereign. 

The measures he pursued for the public good, gave a 
favourable character to. the reign of Pliilip Augustus. His 
intercourse with his contemporary princes was not so uni- 
formly praisewoi'thy. 

Jt must be supposed, that Henry of England entertained 
no small apjirehension of the increasing influence of a 
young prince, who, with better judgment than his father 
Louis, entertained the same jealousy of the overgrown 
power of his vassal of Normandy. These appreliensions 
became yet more alarming, when the king of England 
found that his children, Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey, to 
whom John, the youngest of the brethren, now joined 
himself, were engaged in intrigues with the King of 
France, in order to obtain a portion of Henry's English 
dominions, as a reward for lending their assistance to 
Philip, to strip their father of the whole. Embarrassing 
as were these unnatural cabals, the manner in which the 
King of England w^as freed from them in the case of 
Henry, his eldest son, was yet more afflicting to the father. 
An express brought the news that bis son had indeed re- 
pented of his filial ingratitude; but it was coupled with 
the tidings that the youth lay on his death-bed, and im- 
plored his father's blessing and forgiveness. So great 
was the king's suspicion of those about the yoimger 
Henry, that ha was afraid, to intrust his royal person in 
their hands, even on this pressing occasion. Controlling, 
therefore, his desire to fly to the sick-bed of his son, theC 
king sent him his pardon, his blessing, and a ring of gold, 
as a well-known token to assure him of both. The dying 
penitent, to show the sincerity of his repentance, tied a 
baiter about his neck, arrayed himself in sackcloth, and 
commanded himself to be stretched upon a laver of 
ashes, and in this manner expired. (A D. 11S3.) 

The aged king swooned away tliree times upon hearing 
of the death of xiis son, and broke luto the most unbounded 
lamentations. Besides the strength of natural affection, 



180 CAUSES OF DISCONTENT BETWEEN 

Heniy, doubtless, considered bis eldest son, vvhtn he 
sbould be recalled to the obedience lie owed bis father, 
as the most likely to assert and maintain his high place as 
51 vassal of the French crown. He had by no means the 
same confidence in the talents of his other sons, and was 
thus altogether inconsolable for the death of his eldest 
born. 

New wars and misunderstandings between France and 
England arose on a pretence not of an upright nature, on 
the part of Henry. Adelaide, sister to Philip, King of 
France, had been for some time residing at the court of 
England, under the paction that she was to be united to 
Richard, now the eldest surviving son of Henry II. But 
for some reasons, not now easily ascertained, the King of 
England repeatedly postponed the marriage, so as to bring 
himself under the suspicion that he entertained a passion 
for the young princess, neither agreeable to his under- 
standing or years. King Philip now demanded at the 
sword's point the settlement of his sister's marriage. 
Other causes of discontent constantly arising between so 
powerful a superior and so haughty a vassal, exasperated 
the dispute on both sides ; nor did the talents of Henry, 
whom age had somewhat deprived of his activity, preserve 
the same ascendence over the youthful Philip, which they 
had exercised over his father Louis le Jeune. The en- 
gagement by which both monarchs were bound to embark 
in a joint crusade, suspended the progress of their private 
wars. But, notwithstanding, a. singular incident showed 
how inveterate was the quarrel between their subjects as 
well as themselves. (A. D. 1188.) 

The monarchs had met in a personal conference in a 
plain near Gisors, the frontier of their dominions, desti- 
tute of shade, except that of a single venerabb elm tree, 
which grew on the Norman side of the boundary. The 
sun was burning hot ; but instead of admitting his lioge 
sovereign, the King of France, to a share of the shadow 
of the elm-tree, Henry, with less than his usual courtesy, 
protected himself and his party from the heat under tho 
boughs, from which they excluded Philip and his follow- 



HENRY AND PHILIP. 181 

Ris. The French, incensed at this assumption of supe- 
riority, tliough in a matter so trifling, and farther pro- 
voked by the raillery of Henry's attendants, suddenly 
charged the English sword in hand. Henry escaped with 
difficulty to the castle of Gisors, several of his attendants 
were slain in his defence, and Philip caused the elm to be 
cut down, in token of his victory. In other actions, though 
of slight importance, Philip also gained some superiority; 
the rather that Richard the son of Henry, desirous of be- 
ing wedded to the Princess Adelaide, took part with the 
King of France against his' father. Henry's youngest 
sor,, John, proved also disobedient, like his other children, 
but in a more unprovoked and unjustifiable degree. Tlie 
King of England's health was innovated upon by defeats 
and disgraces, to which his earlier years had been alto- 
gether strangers. His feelings were racked by the sense 
of his children's ingratitude, and his body at the same 
time attacked by a fever. On his death-bed, he declared 
that Geoffrey, his natural son, whom he had created 
chancellor, was tlie only one of his family who had acted 
towards him uniformly with filial respect and obedience. 
In this melancholy state, grief and mortification aided the 
progress of the fever which raged in his veins ; and the 
death of this great and intelligent prince removed from 
the growing and increasing power of Philip one of the 
greatest obstacles to the success of his reign. 

The King of France, relieved from one of his most 
constant enemies, now formed a close alliance with Rich- 
ard, (called, from his courage, Coeur de Lion.) who suc- 
ceeding to King Henry's crown, and full of youthful love 
of adventure, made himself a voluntary party to the fatal 
expedition for the restoration of the fallen kingdom of 
Jerusalem, which his father had engaged in so unwillingly, 
and so frequently postponed, Philip of France read'ly 
adopted liiin as brother and companion of his enterprisa. 
The cl)aracters of these kings had a oear resemblance to 
each other. Botli were brave, skilful in war, auibiiious, 
and highly desirous of honour. Both also appear to have 



182 RTCHAKD rffiUR DE LION 

oeen, upon religious principle, sincerely bent upon theif 
romantic expedition. But llie character of Ricliaj'd united 
the most desperate courage witli the extremity of-rasluiess 
and obstinacy, which reduced his feats of valour to the 
extravagant and useless exploits of an actual madman ; 
whereas Philip combined caution and policy with a high 
pilch of valour, and was by far a more able monarch than 
his rival, though displaying in a less degree the qualities 
of a knight of romance. 

The armies of the confederate princes rendezvoused at 
Lyons, where Philip took the road to Italy, by crossing 
the Alps, in order to embark at Genoa, while Richard, 
with his host, took shipping at Marseilles. 

At tlie time when the two most powerful nations of 
Christendom took arms for the rescue of Palestine, a 
country which their superstitions rendered so important 
to them, the fragments of the kingdom of Godfrey of 
Boidogne were fast disappearing from their sight. Sala- 
din, King, or Sultan, of Egypt, a prince as -brave and far 
more cool-headed and sagacious than either of the Chris- 
tian kings-errant who came to attack him, and rescue 
Palestine from his victorious sabre, had made an eminently 
successful war against the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. 
His power had been by degrees accumulating, and the 
power of an Eastern despot must usually bear a propor- 
tion to his military talents. Saladin's, therefore, was 
considerable. He had made himself master of Egypt, 
and great part of Syria, and pretexts could never be 
wanting to assail the kingdom of Jerusalem itself, since, 
besides the professed animosity between the followers of 
Christianity and of Riahometanism, Saladin had to com- 
plain of the aggressions of a freebooting Christian baron, 
named Reginald de Cliattillon, who had seized a fortress 
on the verge of the desert, from which he pillaged the 
Eastern caravans, and interrupted the pious journey of 
the Mahometan pilgrims to the tomb of their prophet at 
JMecca. Jerusalen), torn to pieces by intestine divisions, 
seemed to be tottering to its fall, when Sa-ladin entered 
into Palestine at the head of eighty thousand men. Guy 



SIEGE OF ACRE. 13Js 

of Lusignan, a prince of no talents, had succeeded to the 
crown of thorns. He raised the whole force of the 
Holv Land to repel the invasion ; but he permitted him- 
self to be deluded by Count Kayn\ond of Tripoli, who 
maintained a correspondence with Saladin. The renegade 
clfief, or apostate, betrayed the Christian army into ground 
where the mail-clad knights of Europe fainted for want 
of water, and were overwhelmed by the arrows of the 
li^ht-mounted infidels. Lusignan was made prisoner, 
with the loss of thirty thousand men. When, fainting 
witli thirst and agony of mind, he was brought before 
Saladin, the Mahometan courteously presented him with 
his own cup of sherbet, cooled with ice. But when 
Lusignan passed the goblet in turn to Reignald de Chat- 
tillon, who had provoked the war, Saladin instantly sev- 
ered the freebooter's head from his body. " The king's 
cup," he said, " betokens mercy. Princes do not slaugh- 
ter captive kings ; but robbers like this are punished with 
death." Many of the military ordei's of Hospitallers and 
Templars, were also put to death. Jerusalem did not 
remain under the Christian power for a fortnight after the 
battle of Tiberias, and Saladin became master of the Holv 
City. (A. D. 1187.) 

The expulsion of the Christians from Palestine was 
not yet completed. The strong city of Tyre was val- 
iantly defended by Conrade of Montferrat ; and the vic- 
torious Saladin was obliged to retire from before it, with 
considerable loss. 

It could hardly be said whether the loss of Jerusalem, 
or the siege of Acre, had most effect in rousing to arms 
the warlike nations of Europe who pressed forward in 
hosts to revenge King Guy of Lusignan, or gain glory or 
martyrdom under Conrade of Montferrat. The multitude 
of adventurers from Europe enabled the king of Jerusa- 
Icn), whom Saladin had not thought worth detaining in 
captivity, to form the siege of Ptolemais, or Acre, a strong 
place, possessing an excellent harbour, the occupation of 
which might facilitate greatly the arrival of succours from 
Europe, which were promised on all sides. The s'legfr 



i84 SIEGE OF ACRE. 

of Acre bad lasted till the spring of the second year. 
Saladin had pitched his camp, and lay with his numerous 
followers, within a few leagues of the town, and daily 
skirmishes took place between the contending armies. 
In the meantime, the new crusade, under Philip and 
Richard, began to roll towards the east. 

The king of France appeared first on this eventful 
scene, but proved unequal to decide the fate of Acre, 
though he tried to do so by a fierce and general assault. 
Richard came soon after, having lingered by the way to 
chastise Isaac, king of Cyprus, who had offended him, 
and was deprived of his dominions, by way of punishment. 
On the arrival of King Richard before Acre, (if old ro- 
mances and tradition say true,) he led his troops to the 
assault in person, and broke down a postern door with his 
strong hand and weighty battle-axe. Leopold, Duke of 
Austria, also distinguished himself by his personal intre- 
pidity, for which, as armorial bearings were then coming 
into use, the emperor is said to have assigned him a fesse 
argent, in a field gules, to express that his person had, in 
the assault, been covered with blood from head to foot, 
except the place under his sword-belt. 

Saladin, who saw the fate of Acre could no longer be 
protracted, gave the citizens permission to make tl)e best 
terms for themselves they could, and on his own part be- 
came bound to set all Christian captives at liberty, and to 
restore to the crusaders the cross on which our Saviour 
suffered, — at least a relic which bore that reputation, and 
which had been taken by blm at the battle of Tiberias. 
But Saladin either could not, or did not, comply with 
these conditions. The impetuous Richard would hear of 
no delay, and put to death at once all his Mahometan 
prisoners, to the number of seven thousand men. On ac- 
30jnt of this rashness and cruelty, Richard sustained the 
just blame of having occasioned the death of an equal 
number of Christians, prisoners to the Sultan, whom 
Saladin slaughtered by the way of reprisal. 

While the furious Richard was thus Incurring public 
censure, he had the mortification to see Philip acquire, at 



JEALOUSr BETWEEN RICHARD AND PHILIP. ISo 

his cost, the praise of superior wisdom and moderation; 
for, by protecting his JVlahometan prisoners ahve, the 
French king was able to exchange them for so many cap- 
tive Christians, and thus avoided an useless waste of hfe 
upon both sides. The difference between the cahn, rea- 
sonable, and politic character of Philip, began to be re- 
marked by the soldiers, and, though the conmion men 
preferred the rude, savage, and fearless character of the 
English monarch, the wise and experienced leaders saw 
higher personal qualities in his companion and rival, and 
accomplishments more beseeming in a prince who would 
make his people happy. The consciousness that they 
were thus compared together, estimated, and preferred, 
according to men's judgment or their humour, had its 
usual effect of inspiring jealousy betwixt the French and 
English kings ; nor had the common cause in which they 
were engaged influence enough to check their animos- 
ities. 

Another cause of discontent was occasioned by Rich- 
ard's violence of temper at this celebrated siege, of 
which he had afterwards much personal occasion to rue 
the consequence. When the city of Acre surrendered, 
Leopold, Duke of Austria assuming upon the merit, in 
virtue of which a new armorial cognizance had been as- 
signed him, caused his own banner to be displayed from 
the principal tower. The fierce temper of the king of 
England caught fire at the Austrian's arrogance, and he 
commanded the banner to be pulled down, and thrown 
into the ditch of the place. The Duke felt the indignity 
offered to him, but forbore to manifest any resentment till 
time and circumstance put in his power ample means of 
revenging the indignity, though with little credit to his 
faith or manhood. 

These various heart burnings gave rise to parties in the 
camp and council of the crusaders, where Richard at' 
tached himself to Guy de Lusignan, and Philip took the 
part of the gallant Conrade de Montferrat, between whom 
there occurred many feuds and quarrels. These divisions 



186 DISSENSIONS AMONG THE CRUSADERS 

were so notorious, that when Conrade was slain by thfi 
dat^gers of two of the tiibe called Assassins, being the 
followers ol the Scheik, or Old Man of the iMountain, i( 
was reported that they had been suborned by Richard. — 
Philip affected to give credit to a charge inconsistent v\ ith 
the manly, though violent character of his rival. The 
French nionarcli selected a new body-guard, armed with 
jjon maces, by whom he caused his person to be watched 
day and night. Neither were any strangers admitted to 
him ; precautions which necessarily implied suspicions dis- 
honourable to CcEur de Lion. 

With whatever views Philip of France had originally 
undertaken the crusade, he quickly found that the enter- 
prise was of a ruinous and desperate nature, and that even 
the barren laurels which must suffice as a reward for 
health, riches, and armies wasted in Palestine, would fall 
in an undue share to his partner in the undertaking, whose 
reckless valour and insatiable desire of military renown, 
made Richard more fitted than his rival for the insane 
adventure in which thej'^ were engaged, and better quali- 
fied to meet the peculiar difficidties which they had to 
encounter. The arrogant and capricious character of the 
English king required also to be soothed and kept in 
temper with more attention and deference, than a mon- 
arch like Philip could find it agreeable to pay to a prince 
who was in some degree his inferior, in so far that he paid 
him homage for a large part of his dominions. Nor did 
it escape Philip's discernment, that if he made use at 
liome of the troops and treasure which he was likely to 
expend in the fruitless prosecution of the purposes of 
the crusade, be might avail himself of the opportunity to 
annex to the crown of France the fiefs of some of those 
gvedt vassals who were daily falling in the wars of Pales- 
tine. He might also urge his purpose of withdrawing 
from the Holy War, ui)on grounds which promised ad- 
vantage to the prosecution of it. For as he and Richard, 
being in one point of view of equal rank, agreed so very 
«Ii, and distracted the councils of the crusading powers by 
their rival pretensions and contradictory opinions, it seems 



Philip's return to France. 13"/ 

pd that Philip, by withdrawing from the entei prise, 
removed a source of disagreement whicli was a princi])-,!. 
obstacle o their success. For these reasons, real or os- 
tensible, the French king determined to return fioiii 
Palestine to his own country : and to silence the re- 
proaches of those who upbraided him with deseiting the 
cause Df Christendom, he left in Syria a strong division 
of tf.n thousand picked troops, with five hundred men-^t- 
arms, to co-operate in tlie task of recovering the Holy 
Sepulchre. 

It was necessary also to satisfy, at least to 'stop, the 
complaints of Richard, who alleged, as a leading motive 
of Philip's return, his purpose of making war upon the 
English monarch in Normandy and his other French do- 
minions. To escape this scandalous suspicion, the king 
of France, before his departure for Europe, pledged a 
solemn vow to King Richard, not to attack any of his 
dominions, nor dispossess any of his vassals, while he 
was absent in the crusade. Yet, when Philip passed 
through Rome on his return home, he made as mu,ch 
interest as he could with the reigning Po])e, (Celestine 
III.,) that he might be absolved from the oath which he 
had pledged to Richard to the above effect. 

Philip, whose first wife had died during his absence in 
the Holy Land, had no sooner returned to his own king- 
dom, than he resolved to marry for a second, Ingerberge, 
sister of Canute, king of Denmark. With this princess, 
it was his object to attain a transference of all the rights 
competent to her family, (descended of the flimous Ca- 
nute, king of England,) and obtain thereby a pretext for 
invading Enirland, as if the throne of that kingdom had 
Iteen unlawfully possessed by the dynasty of Anjou. 
Out the Danish monarch did not choose to transfer his 
claims, for the purpose -of affording Philip the pretext he 
desired for attacking his. late brother and companion in 
arms, while engaged in the religious warfare to whicli 
they had both been sworn. The plans of Philip were 
disconcerted by this refusal. 

The kins: of France whose conduct on this occasioc 



188 ACHIEVEMENTS OF RICHARD 

neither merits the epithet of IMost Christian, bestowed on 
the buvereigns of his race, nor that of August, given to 
distinguish him individually, sought a new and discredita- 
ble channel through which to strike at his enemy. He 
formed a close alliance with John, brother of Richard, 
and youngest son of Henry 11. This prince, one of the 
worst men who afflicted tliese evil limes, was as easily 
induced to make efforts to usurp the territories of a gen- 
erous brother, as he had been formerly found ready to 
rebel against his indulgent father, and lie seems readily 
to have agreed, that Philip should be at liberty to work- 
his pleasure upon Richard's dominions in France, provid- 
ed he was admitted to his share of the spoil. 

In the meantime, while his European dominions were 
thus exposed to an ungrateful brother and a faithless ally, 
Richard was rivalling in the Holy Land the Imaginary 
actions of the champions of romance. He conquered 
Cesaiva and Jaffa ; he drove Saladin before him for 
eleven days of continued battle. He defied armies with 
a handful of men, and challenged to combat, in his own 
person, an extended line of thousands, not one of whom 
dared quit their ranks to encounter him. He even came 
within sight of Jerusalem, but declined to look upon the 
sepulchre, which he found himself not strong enough to 
^ain by battle. In the midst of these wonders, Richard 
was recalled by the news of the intrigues of John and 
Philip. He embarked with precipitation, having patched 
up a hasty peace witli Saladin, and leaving a name in the 
East, with which, long after, the Saracens were wont to 
u|)braid a starting" horse, demanding if he thought the 
bush was King Richard, that be sprang aside from it ! 

Richard's embarkation was the beginning of a series 
of calamities, which gave the King of France time <.o 
arrange his perfidious plans. The king of England was 
shipwrecked on the coast of Dalmatia, and was betrayed 
into the hands of that very Duke of Austria, whom he 
had affronted, by displacing his standard at Acre. Leopold 
meanly seized the opportunity of vengeance which chance 
afforded him, and tlirew the unhappy prince into prisou, 



IMPRISONMENT OF RICHARD. 189 

charging him with many crimes alleged to have been com- 
mitted in Palestine. His place of confinement was for 
some lime kept concealed, and the story how it was dis- 
covered, though well known, is worthy of mention. 

It was no part of Richard's character to be, like his 
rival Philip, a hater of music or minstrelsy. On the 
contrary, he was an admirer of what was, at that time, 
called the Gaij Science, and often practised the arts of 
song and music himself. Blonde! de Nesle, a favourite 
minstrel, who had attended his person, devoted hinisell 
to discover the place of his confinement. He wandered 
in vain, from castle to palace, till he learned that a strong 
and almost inaccessible fortress, upon the Danube, was 
watched with peculiar strictness, as containing some state 
prisoner of distinction. The minstrel took his harp, and 
approachwig as near the castle as he durst, came so nigh 
the walls as to hear the melancholy captive soothing his 
imprisonment with music. Blondel touclied his harp ; 
the prisoner heard and was silent : upon this the minstrel 
played the first part of a tune, or lay, known to the cap- 
tive, who instantly played the second part ; and thus the 
faithful servant obtained the certainty that the inmate of 
the castle was no other than his royal master. It is un- 
certain if Slondel carried news of Richard's imprison- 
ment to the emperor, but such news reached him. The 
emperor compelled the Duke of Austria to surrender his 
person, and being a rough, ungenerous man, he seems 
only to have considered how much money he could ex- 
tort by having in his power one of the richest, as well as 
most Dowerful sovereigns in Christendom, the only cause 
of whose imprisonment was the misfortune that threw 
him on the coast. Philip hearing of Richard's captivity 
m Germany, offered, it is said, a sum of money, provided 
the emperor would deliver Coeur de Lion into his hands. 
Perhaps the emperor thought it would be too detrimental 
to his reputation, were he to make such a transference ; 
but although he refused so dishonourable a treaty, he 
ailed not, for some lime, to lend a favourable ear to 



190 LIBERATION OF RICHARD. 

many specious reasons urged Pliilip for detaining Lis Idtt 
ally in close confinement. 

Meantime, the selfish King of France foimed a fresh 
contract with Prince John, by which the unnatural brother 
was to do all in his power to assert a claim to the crown 
of England, while Richard's French territories in Nor- 
mandy and elsewhere, were to fall to Philip's share ; and, 
that no form mis^ht be awanting, the French king desjiatch- 
ed a he/ aid to denounce war against Richard, then a close 
prisoner The forms of public faith are seldom observed 
with such rigid technicality, as when they are used as a 
cloak to carry into execution what is, in fact, flagrant in- 
justice. Accordingly, Philip, after using this unnecessary 
and absurd form of defiance against a defenceless captive, 
assaulted upon various pretexts, the frontiers of Norman- 
dy, and made conquests there, bestowing towns on his 
ally, John, or retaining them to himself,'at his pleasure j 
and explaining to such of his chivalry or allies as enter- 
tained, or affected, a disinclination to such unjust procedure, 
that he did not attack Richard in breach of his oath, but 
in consequence of old causes of quarrel about his sister's 
portion. While Philip was preparing for his imperial title 
of Augustus, by a system of spoliation resembling that 
of a Roman emperor, he received sudden intelligence, 
that the large ransom which the em|)eror's avarice had set 
on the freedom of Richard, had been at length defrayed 
by the loyalty of his subjects. He communicated the 
alarming news to his associate, John, in the expressive 
phrase, " Have a care of yourself — the devil is loose ?" 

Whatever alarqi these words might imply, Philip knew 
that no pause in his ambitious project would secure him 
from Richard's resentment, now that the captive lion had 
ODtained his liberty. He therefore did not even attempt 
to disguise his enmity ; he openly invaded Normandy, 
and besieged Verneuil. But the .scene began to change, 
on the part of his unnatural ally. 

Richard's unexpected, arrival in England had entirely 
destroyed tire treacherous schem.es of the faithless John. 
Tliat wicked prince saw now no means of security, ex- 



DEATH OF RICHARD. 191 

cept by taking some decisive step, which would demon- 
strate that lie had cast oft' King Philip's lavour, ano 
thrown himself entirely upon his brother's clemency. 
The action by which he proposed to make these intentions 
manifest, was atrociously characteristic. He invited to 
the castle of Evreux, in which Piiilip had invested him, 
those Norman chiefs and officers most favourable to the 
scliemes of the French king, and who had doubtless com- 
municated with Jolm himself, on tlie plans of plundering 
Richard, which he had nourished before his brotlier's re- 
turn. Having welcomed these men hospitably, and feast- 
ed them royally, he surprised, seized upon, and murdered 
his guests, when unsuspicious of danger, and incapable 
of resistance. He cut off their heads to the number of 
three hundred, and arranged them upon pikes around the 
castle, in the fashion of a bloody garland. By this faith- 
less and cruel action, John meant to break all terms with 
Philip, his late abettor in his rebellion against his brother; 
but that king avenged this double treachery as the action 
deserved. He made a hasty march to Evreux, surprised 
John's English. garrison, and put them to the sword, lay- 
ing in ashes tlie town itself, as the scene of such treachery. 
Richard advanced in turn, and obtained some advantag,es, 
in. which he tooK the whole chancery of the French king. 
But Richard was too much weakened by the ri;beHiun of 
his vassals, and the impoverishment of his realm, to fol- 
low the war so promptly as his nature would have dictated. 
Truces, therefore, followed each other, which wei'e as 
rapidly broken as they were formed, until at length both 
princes were brought, by the legate of the Pope, to en- 
tertain thoughts of a solid and lasting peace. But, ere it 
was yet concluded, a paltry enterprise cost Richard Coeur 
de Lion that life which he had risked in so many affairs 
of so much greater consequence. (A. D. 1 199.) One of 
liis vassals had found a treasure concealed in the earth 
upon his fief. Richard demanded possession of it, such 
discoveries being considered a part of the superior's in- 
terest in the benefice. It was refused, and the king llew 
to besiege the vassal's castle, an inconsiderable place. He 



192 ACCESSION OF JOHH 

soon reduced it to extremity ; but an archer took aim 
from tiie walls with a cross-bow, and the bolt , mortally 
wounded Coeur de Lion. The castle was suirendercd 
ere the king had died of his wound. Richard commanded 
the unlucky marksman to be brought before him, and de- 
manded, why he had sought his life so earnestly ! " You 
slew." replied the archer, w'hose name was Bertram de 
Gurdun, " my father, and my brother, and you were 
fceeking my own life ; had I not reason to prevent you, 
if I could, by taking yours ?" The dying king acknow- 
ledged that he had reason for his conduct, and, forgiving 
his offence against his person, generously commanded him 
to be dismissed unharmed. But Richard was dying while 
he gave^,the command, and the injunctions of dying sove- 
reigns are not always respected. The captain of a band 
of Richard's mercenaries put De Gurdun to death, by 
flaying him alive, as the most cruel mode of revenging 
their monarch's death which the ingenuity of these rude 
soldiers could devise. 

Coeur de Lion was succeeded in his throne by the ty- 
rant John. There are not many portraits in history which 
display fewer redeen)ing qualities. He was a bad fatlier, 
a bad brother, a bad monarch, and a bad man ; yet he was 
preferred to the succession, notwithstanding the existence 
of Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, who was son to the de- 
ceased Geoffrey, the immediate younger brother of Rich- 
ard, and the senior to John. Arthur's claim of inheriting 
a succession which came by his father's elder brother, 
would be now perfectly understood as preferable to that 
of his uncle ; but, in the days of King John, the right of 
a brother was often preferred to that of a nephew, the 
son of an elder brother, from some idea then entertained, 
that, in the former case, the brother was one step nearer 
in blood to the deceased person. But notwithstanding 
John's becoming King of England, and Duke of Norman- 
dy, great discontent prevailed in his French dominions, as 
in Anjou, Maine, and other provinces, where the nobles 
and knights would have greatly preferred the sway of 
the young Prince Arthur, to that of his uncle. 



Philip's aversion to his second wiff. 193 

Philip, king of France', whose career of ambition bad 
Leen checked by the return, and formidable opposition, 
of Richard Coeur de Lion, foresaw that the moment was 
arrived when he might safely, and with the consent of the 
vassals themselves, resume his labours to reunite, under 
the immediate sovereignty of the crown of France, the 
great fiefs of Normandy granted to Hollo, and the other 
provinces of which the late Henry II. of England had, by 
his marriage witli Eleanor, the repudiated wife of Louis 
le Jeune, and ocher transactions, obtained possession. — 
The character and conduct of John was so unpopular, 
that there was little doubt that the barons and vassals of 
the English provinces lying in France, who might have 
thought it disgraceful to desert the standard of Richard, 
especially during his imprisonment, would now eagerly 
transfer their allegiance to their lord paramount, Philip, 
in preference to the voluptuous tyrant who succeeded 
Coeur de Lion on the thronoof England. But although 
this was a crisis so favourable and so important for ex- 
tending the authority of France, Pliilip was, by some 
domestic embarrassments, prevented for a time from reap- 
ing the harvest which had ripened before him. The 
circumstances illustrate the manners of the age, and are 
worthy of your attention. 

Philip, like many other men, otherwise of high quali- 
ties, was greatly attached to women, and sometimes sacri- 
ficed his policy to his pleasures. He lost his first wife in 
cliild-bed, of twins, and as we have already hinted, took 
jor his second wife, the Princess Ingerberge of Denmark, 
kvith the purpose of obtaining, as part of her fortune, the 
cession of the pretensions of the descendants of Canute 
io the throne of England, which might give him a pre- 
tence to disturb the heirs of William the Concjueror, now 
in possession of that, kingdom. His marriage took place ; 
but, disappointed at not succeeding in this intended pur- 
pose, or, displeased with his new bride's person, and de- 
termined to annul the marriage, Philip sent the Danish 
princess to a convent before she had resided two days in 

• 953 



194 INTEKDICT AGAINST PHILIP. 

iiis palace. The king's aversion to the unfortunate In 
gerberge was so great, that the sinij/licity of the times 
supposed that a sense of dislike so sudden and strongs 
(jould only arise from the effect of magic, — as if anv 
magic could operate more powerfully than the caprices 
of a self-willed despot. With the same unjust fickleness, 
Philip employed some 'of the more subservient prelates 
about his court, to discover cause for a divorce, whicl> 
was easily found in the usual pretext of loo close alliance 
in blood between the wedded parties. A pedigree was 
drawn up to favour the plea, in conseijuence of which, a 
complaisant council of French bishops passed a sentence 
of divorce between Philip and Ingerberge, within three 
years after their separation. 

The king then proceeded to marry Agnes de Merania, 
daiighter of the Duke of Dalmatiit. (A. D. 1 172.) The 
King of Deninark remonstrated • at Rome, where ■ his 
comj)]aints found favourable hearing, ag;iinst the injury 
and insult offered to his unoffending daughter. The 
legate of the Pope, having taken cognizance of this im- 
j)ortant case, declared formally that the marriage with 
Ino-erberi'C remained bindinc;, and admonished the kin<; 
lo put away her rival, Agnes, as one with whom he could 
have no legal tie. As Pliilip remained obstinate and im- 
penitent, the F*ope proceeded to lay his kingdom ui;der 
an interdict, which, while it lasted, prohibited the per- 
formance of divine service of every kind, the administra- 
tion of the sacraments, the reading the services for the 
dead, or for marriage or baptism, occasioning thereby an 
inex})rcsslble confusion in the country where these divine 
rites were suspended, and all civil affairs, of course, inter- 
rupted. Philip, enraged at the perseverance of the Poj)e, 
revenged himself on the clergy. He seized on their 
temporal effects, imprisoned the canons of the cathedrals, 
and raised heavy taxes on all classes, by which he main- 
tained such large bodies of mercenary soldiers, as made 
resistance impossible on the jiart of his vassals. At 
length, finding it difficult to reniain in Uiis state of vio- 
lence, Philip made a compromise with the Pope, agree- 



INTERDICT WITHDRAWN. 195 

ing tliat he would l)ecoine amenable to the obedleiice of 
the church, providing his hoHness would condescend once 
more to examine tlie question of the divorce and mar- 
riage. A council was accordingly held at Soissons, foi 
the re-examination of an affair that was extremely sim- 
ple. Fifteen days were spent by churchmen and canon- 
ists in these subtle questions, which rather perplex than 
enlighten justice, when, suddenl} , a young and unknown 
speaker took the side of the divorced queen, with such 
persuasive force of truth, that the churchmen conceived 
they heard themselves addressed by the voice of an 
angel. ' The king himself perceived his cause was inde- 
fensible, and resolved to take back the Danish princess, 
as if of his own accord, ere yet he should be compelled 
to do so by the order of the council. He therefore told 
the legate abruptly that he would settle the affair with 
his wives in his own v/ay. He did so accordingly, with 
very little ceremony, instantly riding to the convent where 
the discarded Ingerberge resided, taking her up behind 
him on the same steed, and proceeding with her in that 
manner to Paris, where he publicly acknowledged her 
for his lawful wife. Ingerberge, with the same patient 
obedience which distinguished her while in the cloister, 
returned to the world, and lived and died blameless, if 
not beloved. The fate of Agnes de Merania was more 
melancholy ; she died of a broken heart at feeling her 
self reduced -from the rank of a royal matron to that of 
a concubine. 

By an arrangement go simply produced, Philip gained 
the advantage of being restored from the condition of an 
interdicted and excommunicated prince, to that of a true 
and lawful sovereign, who might justly receive the com- 
plaints of the church, as well as of inferior persons, 
against his vassal John, for certain enormities which were 
not very distant in character from those for which Pliilip 
himself had been so lately laid under an interdict. 

John, whose only use of power was to forward his own 
pleasures, had, during a progress in Guiennej become 
captivated with the charms of Isabel, the beautiful daugh 



196 INSURRECTION 

ter of the Eiirl of Angouleme. This young beauty was 
betrothed to Hugh le Brun, Earl de la Marche, -and nad 
been delivered up to her betrothed husband. But John, 
who was totally unaccustop.ied to bridle his passions, was 
induced to banish a wife with whom he had enjoyed ten 
years of undisturbed union, and, by tempting the annbi- 
tion of Aymar, Count of Angouleme, easily bribed him 
to ffccept a king for a son-in-law, instead of a simple 
count. (A. D. 1200.) This rash and hasty action in- 
curred much censure. The Earl de la Marche, thus 
deprived of his intended and betrothed bride, and bent 
on revenge for so gross an injury, broke out, with his 
brother the Earl of Eu, and other confederates in Gui- 
enne, into open rebellion. John, alarmed for the conse- 
quences, for he was well aware of his own unpopularity 
— summoned together his English vassais, in order to put 
an end to the insurrection ere it spread wider. But al- 
though the English barons had seldom hesitated to follow 
their kings to France, as a country where they were wont 
to acquire wealth and warlike fame, it was no part of their 
feudal obligation to serve the king beyond the liniits of 
Britain, unless with their own free consent. On this oc- 
casion, disliking the cause or the prince, the great Eng- 
lish barons obeyed John's summons but slowly. John 
was attended, therefore, by too small an array to secure 
the implicit submission of his refractory nobles ; and while 
he carried on a languid war against the disaffected, the 
insurrection gained new and formidable supporters. 

Arthur, son of Geoffrey, and nephew of John, began 
now to complain, that out of his uncle Richard's suc- 
cession, he had been only suffered to retain the dukedom 
of Bretagne ; which was the more unjust, as Richard, 
when he went to the Holy Land, had designed Geoffrey 
his father, in whose right Arthur stood, as heir of all hi? 
French dominions. Incensed at this grievance, the young 
duke, who was scarcely sixteen years of age, entertained 
a secret correspondence with the discontented lords of 
Guienne ; and the whole conspiracy became manifest, 
when Philip, claiirring as liege lord, the right of deciding 



IN GUIENNE. 19T 

between John and liis dissatisfied vassals, declared him 
self the protector of the insurgents of Guienne, anil the 
assertor of the claims of Arthur. Both nations took 
arms, and on each side an ambitious and violent-tempered 
woman urged the quarrel to extremity. Constance, the 
mother of Arthur, and widow of his deceased father 
Geoffrey, incited her son to war against his uncle John 
by every argument in her power ; and, on the other hand, 
the dowager Queen Eleanor, that celebrated heiress, who 
transferred Aquitaine from Louis le Jeune to Henry II., 
was still alive, and violent in behalf of King John, whom 
she loved better than her other sons, because he resem- 
bled her more in disposition than any of his brothers. 
These two' haughty and high-tempered ladies had per- 
sonal animosities against each other, and inflamed the war 
by female taunts and female resentments. . Our great 
dramatic poet Shakspeare has made their wrangling im- 
mortal, by intermixing it with the plot of his celebrated 
play of King John. 

In the year (A. D. 1202,) hostilities commenced. 
Young Arthur took the field in the west of France with 
two liundred knights, and gained some successes, but ex- 
perienced on the following occasion, so far as the young 
prince was concerned, a woful and irrecoverable reverse. 
Having, on his march through Poitou, received informa-. 
tion that the dowager Queen Eleanor, his own and his 
mother's personal enemy, was residing in the adjacent 
castle of Mirabel, Arthur flew to invest it, and make sure 
of her as a' prisoner. The defence was vigorous, but at 
length the besiegers possessed themselves of the base 
court, and were well-nigh carrying the great tower, o( 
keep, of- the castle. The arrival of King John changed 
the scene ; he was at no great distance with an army 
more numerous than that of his nephew, consisting chiefly 
of mercenaries, Arthur, with his little band, marched 
to meet their unexpected foe, but was completely routed, 
and driven back to the castle of Mirabel, where the)/ 
were all either slain o^ made prisoners. Arthuv himself 



198 CnUELTY or JOHN. 

the Comte de la Marche, and two hundred knights, wera 
among the latter; and if John could have used a decisive 
victory with humanity and moderation, he might have 
preserved his French dominions, and averted a long and 
almost uninterrupted chain of well-deserved misfortunes. 
But neither humanity nor moderation were a part of his 
character ; and it may be remarked, that there is no surer 
road to adversity than misused prosperity. 

The fate of the prisoners taken in this skirmish of Mi- 
rabel, was atrociously cruel. That of Arthur was never 
exactly known ; but all authors agree that he was mur- 
dered at Rouen, by his jealous uncle John — some allege, 
in his presence, and others affirm with his own hand. 
Of the young prince's allies and friends, twe'nty-five of 
tb'^ noblest and bravest were starved to death in Corfe 
Castle. 

The minds of all men revolted against the author of 
this disgraceful abuse of victory. The barons of Bre- 
tagne accused John at the footstool of Philip, their liege 
lord, of the crime of murdering their duke, and his own 
nephew, in the person of the unhappy Arthur. As the 
King of England did not appear to answer to their charge, 
he was pronounced guilty of felony and treason, and all 
his dominions in Normandy were declared forfeited to his 
liege lord the king of France. Thus was the crisis ar- 
rived wiiich Philip had long waited for. Over the ex- 
tensive territories held for so many years by wise, warlike, 
and powerful princes, there was now placed a person, 
who, by tyranny and inhumanity, was sure to incur a 
just doom of forfeitiu'e, and, by cowardice and indolence, 
was incapable of saving himself from the consequeiices, 
Dy a resolute defence. Accordingly, when Philip, at the 
head of his army, began to enforce the doom of forfeiture, 
or. in plain language, to conquer Normandy for his own, 
it was astonishing how rapidly the structure of feudal 
power, which had been raised by the sagacity of William 
the Conqueror, and his son and great-grandson, the first 
and second Henrys, and latterly defended by the iron 
arm of Richard Coeur de Lion, dissolved, when under 



CONqUEST OF >ORMANiy BY PHILIP. 199 

the sway of the selfish, indolent, and irresolute John 
Joined by the numerous barons who were disaftected tc 
King John, Philip marched through Normandy, reducing 
the strongholds at pleasure, and subjecting the country 
to his allegiance. John never even attempted to meet 
ins enemies in the field, but remained in daily riot and 
revelry at Rouen, struck, as it were, with a judicial in- 
fatuation, which so much affected his courage and activity, 
that, about the 3nd of the year, finding the storm of war 
approach so near as to disturb his slumbers, he fairly fled 
to England, and left the dukedom of Normandy to its 
fate. This. was not long protracted; for, without much 
exertion, and with the good-will of the countries, whose 
inhabitants had not "forgotten that they were by nature part 
of the kingdom of France, Normandy, with Anjou, Poitou, 
and Maine, excepting a few places which remained faith- 
ful to the English king, became again annexed to the 
crown of France. Rouen itself, the capital of Nor- 
mandy, being abandoned to its own resources, was forced 
to surrender, and once more became the property of the 
French kings, three hundred years after it had been con- 
quered by Rolio, the Norman. 

The infatuated John threw the blame of losing so many 
fair possessions upon the desertion of tlie English barons. ' 
who would not follow him to France for the purpose of 
defending his Norman dominions. He more than once 
summoned his vassals, as if with the fixed purpose of in- 
vading the territories he had lost ; but the expedition 
was always deferred, under pretence that the musters were 
not complete, until it became the conviction of every 
one, that the armaments were only intended to afford a 
pretext for levying fines on the vassals who neglected the 
royal summons. A single feeble attempt to cross the 
seas with an army, only served to show the imbecility of 
the Eng';3h leader ; and retiring before Philip, and avoid- 
ing the combat which he offered, the degenerate John 
did but prove his personal cowardice, and ignorance as a 
commander. Thus, almost without opposition, did Philip 
uniJe, under the Fre.nch empire, those provinces so Ions 



200 Philip's designs upon England. 

separated from the kingdom to which they belonged as a 
natural part. The event was the most useful, as Avell a>' 
most brihiant, of his reign, and must be reckoned die 
principal cause for bestowing upon Philip the flatterinff 
name of Augustus. 

The extreme indolence and imbecility of John en- 
couraged the King of France, who, through all his reign, 
evinced a high cast of ambition and policy, to extend his 
views even beyond the limits of the French dominions 
of the English prince ; and pushing his opportunity 
against one so inacti-ve and impolitic, he resolved to at- 
tempt achieving a second conquest of England, while its 
crown was placed on so unworthy a head. The success 
of William the Conqueror, under circumstances much 
less favourable, was doubtless called to mind, as an en- 
couraging example. Some apology, or show of justice, 
was indeed wanting for such an invasion ; for England 
was no dependency of France, like Normandy or Anjou, 
nor had King Philip a eight to declare that realm forfeited 
as a fief of his crown, whatever may have been the de- 
linquencies of its tyrannical sovereign. But it was John's 
ill-luck, or misconduct, so to manage his affairs, as to 
afford, not Philip alone, but any Christian prince in Eu- 
• rope, as full right to make war upon and dispossess him 
of his English dominions, as the church of Rpn)e, which 
then claimed the right of placing and dethroning mon- 
archs, was competent to confer. The rash monarch of 
England laid himself open to this, by a dispute with the 
Pope, at any time a formidable opponent, but an irre- 
sistible one to a sovereign so universally detested as John. 

This dispute, so remarkable in its consequences, arose 
thus : 

In 1205, (A. D.) the right of electing an Archbishop 
of Canterbury was disputed between the monks of the 
cathedral, who made choice of their own sub-prior, 
Reginald, and the King of England, with the prelates of 
the province, who made choice of the Bishop of Nor- 
wich. Both sides appealed to the Pope, who immedi- 
ately began to *ake the dispute under his own manage- 



EXCOMMUNICATION OF JOHN. 201 

ment, with the purpose of so conducting tne contest, as 
to augment the unhmited power which he claimed to ex- 
ercise over Christendom. The Pontiff decided, in the 
first place, that the right of electing the archbishop lay 
exclusively in the monks. He next declared botii elec- 
tions to be vacant, and proceeding lo fill the important 
situation with a creature of his own, commanded the 
monks of Canterbury, who had come to Rome to solicit 
the disputed election, to make a new choice for the office, 
indicating Stephen Langton as the candidate whom they 
were to prefer. The monks pleaded the irregularity of 
such an election, and alleged vows which rendered it un- 
lawful for them to hold such a course. The Pope an- 
swered their objections by his plenary power. He 
dispensed with the irregularity by his papal authority, 
annulled the obligations of the oaths of the monks, and 
compelled them, under penalty of the highest censure of 
the church, to proceed as he enjoined them. John, with 
a spirit which he only showed when resistance was re- 
mote, remonstrated with Pope Innocent on such an irregu- 
lar attempt to fix a primate on England. The Pope 
replied with equal warmth, calling on the king to submit 
lo his authority, before whom every knee must bow. 
Finally, as King John continued refractory, the Pontiff 
proceeded to lay all. his dominions under an interdict, of 
which the nature has been already explained to you. 
John endeavoured to avenge himself upon such of the 
clergy as were within his reach ; but although imprisoned, 
fined, and even personally punished, the zeal of the 
churchmen for the cause of the Pope, made them dare 
the fate of martyrs or of confessors. 

In 1209, (A. D.) when the interdict had continued 
two years, the Pope proceeded to pronounce sentence of 
excommunication against John personally, by which he 
was, so far as the curses of Rome could have effect, 
thrown out of the pale of the Christian church, his sub- 
jects released from their allegiance to him, and his king- 
dom delivered up to any one who should carry the doom 
of the Pontiff into execution. More especially, Kmo 
9* 



202 John's submission to the pope. 

Philip of France bad the express charge of executinc 
tl'.e sentence. of deposition against his neighbour of Eng- 
land, and in reward of his expected exertions, was de- 
;;iared king of that country in his stead. 

Thus placed in the very position which he so earnestly 
desired to assume, by taking on himself the office of the 
Pope's champion, the politic Philip sacrificed to his am- 
bitious views upon England the common interest of 
princes, and assented to the dangerous doctrine, that the 
crowns of reigning sovereigns were held at the pleasure 
of the Roman pontiff. He assembled a large army near 
Boulogne, where he had provided no less than seventeen 
hundred vessels to transport tiiem to England. But al- 
though dislike to the tyranny of John rendered many of 
his barons indifferent to his fate, and although the minds of 
others were affected with superstitious dread of the Pope's 
aiiathema, there were yet many Englishmen resolved to 
withstand the French invasion. The alarm that the king- 
dom was in danger from foreigners, drew together an im- 
mense array, from which it was easy for King John to 
select sixty thousand well-armed and well-appointed 
troops, to oppose the French king. 

Such were the preparations made to defend England 
from invasion, when John, by a secret treaty with Pan- 
dulph, the legate of the Pope, endeavoured to avert the 
danger of the struggle. In this he succeeded — but it 
was only by an act of submission, the most ignominious 
of which the world had yet seen an .example. By this 
agreement, the King of England made the most unre- 
served submission to the Pope concerning Stephen Lang- 
ton's reception as Archbishop of Canterbury, which was 
the original dispute, professed penitence for his former 
refractory conduct, and, in evidence of his sincerity, re- 
signed into the hands of the legate, as representing his 
holiness, his kingdoms of England and Ireland, engaging 
to hold them thereafter in the name of vassal to the Pope, 
for the tribute of one thousand merks yearly. 

The Pope was highly gratified with an accommoda- 
tion v'hich had taken a turn so favourable tc he extensioc 



CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 203 

of tlie influence, as well as tlie wealth of the church, 
and he issued his mandates in a tone o'" uncommon arro- 
gance, commanding Piiilip to forbear any enterprise 
against John of England, who now hail, though formerly 
a refractory son of the church, reconciled himself with 
the Pope, was become the vassal of the Holy See, a sub- 
missive, amiable, and benign prince, peculiarly entitled to 
the Pontiff's protection against all injuries. Philip re- 
monstrated at the attempt to render him thus the passive 
tool of Rome, obliged as such to assume and lay aside 
his arms at her bidding. He thought it best, however, 
to comply, as he learned that his increasing power, aug- 
mented as it was with the spoils of John's F'rench terri- 
tories, was on the eve of exciting a confederacy against 
him among the crown vassals of France. For this 
reason, he turned the army designed for the invasion of 
England against Ferrand, Earl of F'lauders, whose acces- 
sion to such a league he had reason to apprehend. 

The great army of France, with the king at its liead, 
advanced into Flanders accordingly, taking some of the 
Earl's towns, and menacing the sul^jugation of his earl-- 
dorn. King John, on the entreaty of Earl Ferrand, sent 
to his assistance a great fleet, which he had got in readi- 
ness while the alarm of the French invasion of England 
impended, under the command of a natural son of Rich- 
ard Coeur de Lion, called Longsword, Earl of Salisbury. 
The English had already acquired that superiority at sea, 
which has been long one of their marked national char- 
acteristics. They defeated the French navy, though 
more numerous than their own, destroying one hundred 
vessels, taking one hundi'ed more, and dispersing the rest 
of the fleet. Phili]), who wntli his nobles had lost much 
valuable property on this occasion, was so much discour- 
aged by an unexpected blow from a quarter which he 
had bieen liille accustomed to fear, that lie desisted from 
liis attempts against Ferrand, and retired into his own 
ilon)inions. 

The alarm which was excited by King Philip's increas- 
ing pow'er and extensive ambition, was far from subsiding 



204 CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 

on his retreat. On the contrary, the vassals of the crowit 
ol" France, who had heen engaged with other conLinental 
princes in a confederacy against the crown, were hent 
upon takinfi advanta'^e of the i{Ieam of success occasioned 
by the d)Scon)fiture, and to estahhsh, in the moment of 
victory, some counterbalance against the predominant au- 
thority of Philip. The confederacy assumed a consist- 
ent and alarming appearance, and well deserved the King 
of France's peculiar attention, as it was like to require 
the whole strength of his kingdom to resist the combined 
assault of so many enemies. The Emperor Olho lent 
his active co-operation to the confederates the more 
readily, as being the nephew, by the mother's side, of 
King John, whose French dominions Philip had confis- 
cated with so little ceremony or scruple. The Earls of 
Flanders, Boulogne, Toulouse, and Auvergne, also joined 
the enemies of Philip, and visited England in 1214, to 
arrange the plan of the ensuing campaign. 

It was agreed on this occasion, that France should be 
invaded on two sides, so as to find full employment for 
the forces and skill of her monarch. It was farther de- 
termined, that the main attempt should be made by the 
Emperor Otho and the warlike Earls of Boulogne and 
Flanders, aided by an auxiliary body of English troops, 
under command of the celebrated Longsvvord, Earl of 
Salisbury. They were destined to attack the eastern 
frontiers of France, with a powerful army. John hin)- 
self, according to the same plan, was to cross the sea to • 
Rochelle, where he was sure to be joined by several 
friends of the English interest, as well as by the Eails 
of Auvergne and Toulouse. Such were the prepara- 
tions ; the object proposed was the dismemberment of 
the French territories, which were to be divided among 
Uie princes of this confederacy. The allies, in accord- 
ance with the superstition of the times, consulted sooth- 
sayers on the issue of the war, and received for answer, 
"that the King of France should be overthrown, and 
trampled on by the horses' feet, and should not receive 
funeral rites ; ard that Count Ferrand of Flanders should 



ARMY OF PHILIP. 205 

enter Paris in great pomp after the engagement." The 
allies received as pro])itioas, an oracle which afterwards 
turned out to be of a different and ambiguous character : 
they accordingly advanced at the head of a numerous ■ 
army, amounting, it is said, to one hundred and fifty 
thousand men. They assembled at Peronne, in Flan- 
ders, and moved south-westwards into France. 

The army of Philip was not nearly so numerous, but 
was composed of the flower of the French chivalry, with 
the great princes of the blood royal, and such of the vas- 
sals of the crown as were not in the confederacy. The 
monarch also enjoyed the advantage of the bravery and 
experience of a valiant knight hospitaller, called Guerin, 
who acted as quarter-raaster-general. Philip, having de- 
termined to prevent the wasting of his own country by 
ravaging that of the enemy, directed his course towards 
Hainault with that purpose. But in the course ©f their 
march, the French discovered the numerous squadrons 
of the emperor, on the opposite side of the JMeuse, near 
Bou vines. The river was crossed by a wooden bridge. 
Tlie French 'noblesse on the one side, and the German 
on the other, rushed emulonsly to seize the passage. But 
it was occupied by the former ; and the French infantry, 
principally the nnlltia of the towns, passed over under 
the Oriflamme, or banner of St. Dennis, and formed on 
the western side of the river. The king had stretched 
himself to repose under an ash-tree, when he was roused 
by the horsemen who came to apprize him that the battle 
had commenced. Philip arose with a cheerful counte- 
nance, and, stepping into a church which was near, paid 
the brief devotions of a soldier. He then advanced to 
the front of his troops, and recollecting that there were 
many vassals in his own army who were likely to be se- 
cretly affected by the reports generally, and not unjustly, 
spread abroad concerning his own interested and ambitious 
disposition, he caused his crown to be placed on a port- 
able altar, arranged in front of his line of battle. " INIy 
fiiends," he said, " it is for the crown of France you 



206 BATTLE OF BOUVlNEd. 

fight, and not for liim who lias of late worn it. If you 
ran rescue it from these men, vvlio are combined, to de- 
grade and destroy it, the soldier who shall bear him best 
.in its defence, is, for my part, welcome to wear it as hi? 
own." 

This well-conceived speech was answered with shouts 
of " Long live King Philip ! the crown can befit no 
brow so well as his own." The French army continued 
to defile across the bridge to support their van, which 
had already passed over. The army of the allies con- 
tinued to manoeuvre and extend their wings, for the pur- 
pose of surrounding Philip's inferior numbers. But by 
this manoeuvre they lost the opportunity of charging the 
French troops, when only a part of their army had passed 
over, and in taking up their new ground, they exposed 
their faces to the sun, — a great disadvantage, which they 
felt severely during the whole action. 

The battle began with incredible fury, and proved one 
of the most obstinate, as it was certainly one of the most 
important, actions of those warlike times. 

The command of the right wing of the allies was in- 
trusted to the Earl of Flanders, the left to the Count of 
Boulogne, the Emperor having his own place in the cen- 
tre, under a banner displayed on a species of carriage, on 
which ensign was represented the imperial eagle holding 
a dragon in his talons. On the side of France, the king 
himself, surrounded by the princes of the blood, heading 
the bravest' of the young knights and nobles, and at- 
tended by the most distinguished of the prelates and 
clergy, commanded ihe centre. The Duke of Burgundy 
commanded the right wing, the Comte de St. Paul the 
left, and Guerin, the experienced knight hospitaller, ar- 
rayed the army, being, although a bishop elect, the most 
ekilful leader in the field. The Comte de St. Paul, who 
had been unjustly suspected of intercourse with the ene- 
my, said to Guerin, when the battle conniienced, " Now, 
)'0u shall see what manner of ti'aitor 1 am !" 

Al the onset, the allies had some advantage ; for a 
body of French light-horse, which commenced the attack, 



BATTLE OF BOUVINES. "201 

were unable to withstand the \veic!;ht and strength of the 
huoe rnen and horses of the Flemish and German cavah-y, 
to whom they were ojiposed. One wing of the P^rencii 
army was disarranged in consequence of this check, as 
well as by the impetuosity of an attack commanded by 
Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, who was one of the best* war- 
riors on ttie side of the allies. The emperor assailed, 
with incredible fury and superior forces, the centre, in 
which Philip and his nobles were stationed. Philip made 
good the promise which he had given to his soldiers, and 
fought as desperately as any man in the field. He was 
at length borne out of his saddle, and wounded in the 
throat. Gulon de Montigni in vain waved the royal 
banner, to intimate the disaster that had taken place, and 
Philip's wars would have ended on the spot, but for the 
devoted loyalty of some knights, who threw themselves 
betwixt him and the prevailing Germans. But, almost 
at the same moment, the Earl of Flanders, who had been 
at first victorious, was, after great resistance, made prisoner, 
and his Flemish forces defeated, giving an opportunity for 
a large body of French cavalry to press closely to the 
centre, where their assistance was so much required. A 
band of the nobles who thus came to l^!iili[)'s rescue, 
determined to attack the person of the Emperor, disre- 
garding meaner objects. They broke through his guard, 
overturned the chariot which bore his baimer. and seized 
it. They then rushed on Otho's person. Peter de Mau- 
voisin seized his bridle, William des Barres -grasped him 
round the body, and strove to pull him from his horse, 
Gerard de Trie attempted to strike him through with his 
sword, and the good corslet protecting the Emperor from 
the blow, the Frenchman again struck with the edge of 
the sword, and killed Otho's horse. Yet a furious charge 
of some German men-at-arms relieved their emperor, 
who was remounted on a swift horse, and left the conllicl 
in despair. '• Let him go," said King Philip, who wit- 
nessed his enemy's flight, " you will see no more of limi 
to-day than his back !" 

While the Earl of Flanders and the Emperor wew 



20S BATTLE OF BOUVlNES. 

thus defeated, the Comte de Boulogne dispkyed the 
greatest courage, by the mode in which he supported Lis 
division of the allies. He had established a strong reserve 
of foot in a triangular form, behind which, as covered by 
a forlj-ess, he drew up his men-at-arms, and whence he 
sallied repeatedly with inexpressible fury. At length, he 
was pursued into this retreat by the French men-at-arms, 
who skirmished with him for some time, unable to bea* 
down or despatch him, as horse and man vi^ere covered 
with impenetrable armour, like the invulnerable cham- 
pions of romance. At last, Pierre des Tourelles, a knight 
who chanced himself to be dismounted, raise'd the armour 
which covered the Earl's horse with his hand, and stab- 
bed the good charger. The Earl of Boulogne thus dis- 
mounted, was added to the captives, who amounted to 
five Earls of the highest name and power, twenty-five 
seigneurs, or nobles, bearing banners, and nearly as many 
men of inferior rank as there were soldiers in the con- 
quering army. Philip, considering his disparity of num- 
bers, and satisfied with so complete a victory, would not 
. permit his troops to follow the enemy far. 

Such was the celebrated battle of Bouvines, on the 
details of which the French historians dwell with national 
pride. It lasted from noon till five in the evening. (A. 
D. 1214.) The scruples of two ecclesiastics, which 
prohibited them from shedding blood, were on this occa- 
sion differently expressed, or rather evaded. Guerin the 
hospitaller, who was also bishop elect of Senlis, lent 
Philip the assistance of his military experience in draw- 
ing up his army, but would not engage personally in the 
action. Another prelate, Philip, Bishop of Beauvais, 
thought he sufficiently eluded the canon which prohibit- 
ed churchmen from shedding blood, by fighting like the 
chaplain of the Cid, who used an iron mace instead of a 
sword. With this, the scrupulous prelate had the honour 
to strike down and make prisoner the celebrated Long- 
sword, Earl of Salisbury, who commanded such English 
troops as were in the battle. 

After the victory, Philip caused the principal captives 



DEATH OF TlIK COUNT OF BOULOGNE. 209 

to be conducted through Paris in a sort of triumph, and w 
tills procession Renaud, Count of Boulogne, and Ferrand. 
Cour.t of Flanders, were distinguished from the rest by 
being loaded with irons. The former being brought be- 
fore Philip, the king upbraided him with his excommu- 
nication, (forgetting how lately he himself had been under 
the censure of the church, for the affair of his divorce.) 
He also charged him with personal ingratitude, and con- 
cluded by sending the captive earl to the castle of Pe- 
ronne, where he was lodged in a dungeon, and his motions 
limited by a heavy chain, attached to a block of iron, so 
weighty that two men could not lift it. Here the unfor- 
tunate earl remained a close captive, until he heard that 
his ally Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, had been restored to 
freedom, (though under severe conditions,) at the suppli- 
cation of his wife. On finding that similar clemency was 
not extended to hiu), the Count of Boulogne became 
desperate, and ended his miserable misfortunes by depriv- 
ing himself of existence. 

The second part of the plan of the allies, which 
was to have depended on the exertions of King John 
of England, proved as inefficient as all others which 
had been calculated upon the fortune and conduct of that 
unlucky prince. John, no doubt, carried over an Eng- 
lish army to Rochelle, and received the homage of many 
barons of Poitou and Normandy, who had acceded to 
the league against Philip. He took Angers, the capital 
of Anjou, his family fief, but, except wasting and spoil- 
ing the country, he did nothing farther on his side which 
could materially favour the great attempt of the confed- 
erates. 

Philip having gained the battle of Bouvines, which 
might be said to secure the fate of the crown of France, 
by placing in his power the heads of so formidable a con- 
spiracy, marched instantly into Poitou against John, yet 
showed no inclination to carry the war to extremity at 
present ; but, on receiving a present of sixty thousand 
pounds sterling, he granted the King of England a truce 

953 



210 TRUCE GRANTED TO JOHN. 

for the space of five years. For this moderaticn, Philip 
has been censured by French writers, who are of oj)in 
ion he sliould have continued the war, until he had sub- 
dued Rochelle and the lew scattered French towns and 
forts wliich still acknowledged the dominion of England. 

But Philip, who was a prince of far-sighted j)o!itical 
views, was aware that, in the battle of Bou vines, he had 
been obhged to rely tgo implicitly upon the assistance of 
his feudal vassals, and might think it imprudent to make 
I hem, at this moment, moKe sensible of their own impor- 
tance, by prosecuting new wars against John, in which 
their assistance would have been indispensable. A large 
surn of money being immediately received, lie may be 
supposed to have calculated to have a sufficient number 
of mercenary forces, by help of which, at some conven- 
ient period, the wreck of John's French dominions might 
be gained, without the assistance of his feudal militia, and 
of troops which never could be properly said to be under 
his own personal command. 

During this time, a remarkable series of transactions 
took place in France, the review of which 1 have reserved 
to this place, that I might not confuse them in yourmem- 
oiy with those which I have been thus recounting. 

The Popes, bent at once on increasing their finances 
and extending their power, had found the utmost ad van 
tage in the practice of preaching the crusade, as the in 
dispensable duty of all Christians, while, at the- same 
time, they fouud it very convenient to accept of large 
sums of money from such princes, nobles, and individuals, 
as found it more convenient to purchase the privilege of 
remaming to look after their own affairs, than to assume 
tjje cross for distant enterprises. These holy expeditions 
were originally confined to the recovery of Palestine. 
But, since their effects were found in every respect so 
profitable to the church, it occurred to the Popes that 
there might be great policy in extending the principles 
of the holy crusade not only to the extirpation of infi- 
delify and heathenism, in foreign parts, but to that of 
ueresy at home. Accordingly^ as head of the Christiaa 



CRUSADE AGAINST HERETICS. 211 

church, the PontifTs assumed the privilege of cominaiid- 
ing all Christian people, under the threat of s])iritual 
censures against tliose that should disobey, and with a 
corresponding remuneration to such as rendered spijitual 
obedience, to I'ise up in arms, and do execution on such 
people, or sects, as it had been the |)leasure of the 
church to lay under the ban of excommunication for 
heretical opinions. 

It was in the exercise of a privilege so frightful, by 
which the Popes raised armies wherever they pleased, 
and employed them as tliey chose, that tlie south-west of 
France was subjected to a horrible war. A numei'ous 
party of dissenters from tlie faith of Rome, men |)rofess- 
ing, in most respects, those doctrines which are now 
avowed by the Protestant churches, had gradually ex- 
tended itself through the south of France, and were par- 
ticularly numerous in the dominions of Raymond, Earl 
of Toulouse. The ecclesiastical writers of the period 
accuse these unfortunate sectaries of ])rofessing abomina- 
ble and infamous license, wliich they are alleged to have 
practised even in their public worsliip ; but there is little 
reason to doubt that this was mere calumny, and that the 
Albigeois, or Albigenses, as they were termed, were a 
set of obscure but sensible men, whose minds could not 
be reconciled to the extravagant tenets of the Roman 
Church. Tliey did not exactly agree in doctrine amongst 
themselves, and probably numbered among them the 
obscure descendants of the Paulicians, and other ancient 
Gothic churches, who had never embraced the faith of 
Rome, or yielded to its extravagant pretensions of tem- 
poral authority. Raymond, Count of Toulouse, within 
whose dominions these poor dissenters found refuge, was a 
prince of a comprehensive understanding, and, tliough 
himself professing no peculiarity of faith, was, neverthe- 
less, willing to grant liberty of conscience to all who lived 
under his sway, and was well aware what temporal ad- 
vantages might be derived from a government so profess- 
ing complete toleration. 

Against these unfortunate Albigenses, and their protec- 



212 CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIGENSES 

tor Raymond, Pope Innocent III., at the insligation of 
Saint Dominic, and other furious inquisitors of the- monas- 
tic orders, proclaimed a crusade, enjoining those persons 
who should embrace so pious a labour, to convert by the 
sword, those who should fail to lend an ear to the preach- 
ing of the monks. A numerous host, great part of whicli 
was levied among the military adventurers and hired mer- 
cenaries of the age, and whose character for license and 
cruelty was scarcely to be matched, was assembled, under 
tlie name of the Army of the Church. They were 
placed under the command of Simon de Montfort, a 
brave but cruel leader, and a bigot to the faith of Rome. 
Under his command these crusaders indulged an in- 
discriminate thirst for slaughter and plunder amid the 
peaceful Albigenses, without accurately distinguishing the 
heretic from the orthodox, under the pretext that they 
were extirpating evil and erroneoi s opinions, and thereby 
rendering acceptable service to God and the Christian 
Church. 

Philip of France gave w'ay to proceedings which lie 
dared not oppose. He did not himself embrace the cru- 
sade against the Albigenses ; but his son. Prince Louis, 
came under llie obligation, without his father's knowledge 
and against his inclination. Count Raymond defended 
himself till after the battle of Bou vines, by which time 
Simon de Montfort, with his crusaders, had attained such 
a superiority over the Albigenses, that he rather regarded 
the engagement of Louis in the crusade as matter of 
jealousy, than as affording a prospect of support and 
assistance. 

In such circumstances. Prince Louis was naturally 
called upon to rejoice, when he was summoned by his 
father to exchange the fruitless and oppressive persficu- 
tion against these poor sectaries, for a more honourable 
warlare, which had for its object the conquest of Eng- 
land, and the utter destruction of King John's power 

As King John's misconduct and -losses became more 
and more conspicuous abroad, his tyranny uicreased at 
home J and as his prerogative grew in fact weaker, he 



MAGNA CHARTA SIGNED BY JOHN. ^13 

enraged his subjects by attempting to extend Its limits in 
the most obnoxious instances. He caused the forest laws, 
always vexatious, to be executed with more tlian usual 
severity, casting down the enclosures of the royal forests, 
so that the wild deer, and other animals of the chase, 
might have uncontrolled access to the crops of the hus- 
bandmen. The barons were equally discontented with" 
the people by his violent and oppressive exactions and 
claims, and took the field against him in such force, as 
obliged King John to submit to their just demands ; on 
which occasion, he subscribed, at Runnamede, the cele- 
brated grant of privileges, called Magna Charta, which 
the English still account the t)ulwark of their liberties. 
\.s these privileges, however just and equitable in them- 
selves, were extorted most unwillingly from the monarch, 
the perfidious king took the first opportunity to endeavour 
to recall them. He appealed for this purpose to the 
Pope, whom he had created his lord paramount ; and 
the Pontiff, who received his claim of protection most 
favourably, expressed himself as highly offended at some 
of the articles of the Great Charter, and swore he would 
not suffer a sovereign, who was now an obedient vassal 
of the church, to be dictated to by his subjects in such a 
manner. He, therefore, annulled the grant of the Great 
Charter, as extorted by force, and not long after fulmi- 
nated excommunications against the allied barons, and all 
who favoured them. John received still more pow'erful 
assistance from a large army of mercenary soldiers, whom 
he landed at Dover, and with whom he took Rochester. 
By this re-enforcement, the king obtained a formidable 
advantage over the barons who could not always keep 
their feudal followers under arms, since they had their 
land to cultivate and their crops to gather in, whereas the 
mei'cenaries could be kept prepared for war at all times, 
and ready to be in the field at a minute's warning. 

The barons in this emergency adopted, the desperate 
alternative of throwing themselves into the hands of the 
King of France, rather than submit to the tyrant John 
Two of their number were despatched to the court o' 



214 INVASION OF ENGLAND BY LOUIS. 

King Philip, offering to transfer their own allegiance, and 
the kingdom of England, to his eldest son Louis, on con. 
dition of his bringing an army to their assistance. The 
pretence of this interference on the part of France might 
be, that when the crown vassals were oppressed by their 
immediate lord, their lord paramount had a right to interfere 
for their redress. Even that excuse would not have justified 
in feudal law the substitution of the son in the fief, which, 
if forfeited at all, was an escheat to the lather. But the 
case of the barons was desperate, and, conscious of John's 
revengeful temper, they sought for aid in the only man- 
ner in which they saw a chance of obtaining it. Accord- 
ingly, the tempting offer of a crown prevailed on Philip 
and his son, the former in secret, and the latter openly, to 
accept eagerly the proposal of the barons, jmd to send an 
army of seven thousand men to re-enforce the insurgent 
party in England, while Louis himself prepared a stronger 
expedition. 

On the 23d of May, Louis arrived before Sandwich, 
with a gallant navy of six hundred sail, disembarked a 
corresponding number of land forces, marched towards 
London, and, having taken Rochester in his route, was 
welcomed with acclamations by the citizens. (A. D. 
1216.) Here he received the homage of the barons who 
had invited him to tlieir aid. 

Hitherto every thing had been in favour of the young 
Prince of France, and the affairs of John went to ruin 
on all sides. The legate of the Pope strove in vain to 
defend him by the fulminations of the church. These 
were addressed both against Philip and his son Louis ; 
but as the former monarch disavowed in public the pro- 
ceedings of his son, the effectual excommunication fell 
only upon Louis himself, who, receiving from his father 
by underhand means the encouragement and the supplies 
whi/^.h were openly refused to him, and being, moreover, 
at tne head of a military force, set at defiance the conse- 
quences of the spiritual censures. Indeed, it may be 
observed, that, even during this period, (although that ir 



SIEGE OF DOVER CASTLE. 215 

wblrh the Romish church had the greatest influence on 
the world at large,) the Pope's excommunication was 
efFeclual, or otherwise, according to the opinion enter- 
tained by the nation in general, of the justice of the sen- 
tence. Thus we have seen, that a sentence of the 
cliurch reduced John to almost total ruin, from which he 
only saved himself by the most absolute submission, and 
the transference of his dominions to the Roman see. 
On the other hand, the curse of Rome did not greatly 
affect Prince Louis, while the barons of England contin- 
ued to espouse his cause. And not long subsequent to 
this time, Robert Bruce of Scotland, excommunicated as 
he was for the murder of Comyn, found the spiritual cen- 
sure no great impediment to the recovery of his crown. 
So that it was the force of public opinion, which added 
mucli to the effectual weight of the anathema of the 
church. 

But the affairs of Louis were deranged by circumstan- 
ces different from, and independent of, the Pope's sen- 
tence of excommunication, although, as the scale turned 
tliat sentence acquired weight which it had not when 
first pronoimced. In the space of the first two months 
Louis marched successfully through England, and reduc- 
ed the wliple southern parts of that kingdom to his obedi- 
ence. But he met a check before the castle of Dover, 
which was defended with obstinacy and success by Hu- 
bert de Burgh, and a select garrison. The most formi- 
dable military engine of the French was in vain pointed 
against the walls of a place strong by nature, and forti- 
fied with all the skill of the period. Althiough success 
seemed almost impossible, Louis continued the siege with 
unavailing obstinacy, and the time which he wasted be- 
fore Dover, gave John leisure once more to collect his 
forces, and afforded opportunity for dissensions to spring 
up among the allies of Prince Louis. Windsor Castle 
was besieged by the Prince with the same ill success as 
Dover. John was once more at the head of a formida- 
ble army, and what was still more ominous to the cause 
of Louis, the English barons be";an to draw oft' from hia 



216 ri:;nevval of thk great charter. 

siiie, on (ii;^c8ming tliat be treated his countrymen with 
undue partiality, and afforded Httle countenan.ee to tlie 
lords of England who had joined him. A report was 
spread, that the Viscount of JMelun had, on his death- 
bed, confessed a purpose on the part of Louis to put to 
death the barons who had joined his party, as traitors to 
Jheir natural monarch. Whether the report was founded 
in truth or not, it was certainly believed ; insomuch, that 
several nobles of distinction deserted the cause of Louis, 
and returned to their original allegiance. 

Many or most others were only withheld from doing 
the same, from a dread of the false and vindictive char- 
acter of John, when, at this critical periodj an event took 
place which fortunately saved England from the dreadful 
alternative of a foreign yoke, or a bloody civil war. King 
John delivered the country from the extremity to which 
he had reduced it, by his sudden death, the only thing 
which could have relieved it. This prince, whose ty- 
ranny had occasioned the evils of his kingdom, and the 
general apprehension of whose perfidy prevented their 
being removed, died at Newark-upon-Trent, at the yet 
robust age of forty-nine years, on 19th October, 12J6. 
(A. D.) 

This opportune event changed the scene, for the re- 
volted barons, already inclined to return to their alle- 
giance, had now to treat with a young prince of the na- 
tive family of their own kings, instead of a foreigner, 
whose faith they had some reason to distrust, or the 
tyrant John, whose treachery and cruelty were alike to 
be dreaded. 

Henry III., the eldest son and successor of John, was 
only in his tenth year, so that the assistance of a guardian, 
or protector, was absolutely necessary. The Earl of 
Pembroke, a wise and brave nobleman, was chosen to this 
eminent but difficult office. Loyal to the young prince, 
he was, at the same time, friendly to the liberties of the 
subject, and his first act was, as a voluntary grant on the 
part of the crown, to renew the Great Charter of the 
Liberties which John had granted with so much formality, 



LOUIS WITHDRAWS FROM ENGLaND. 211 

and afterwards endeavoured to retract. This open and 
inanly measure served as an assurance that, in the new 
reign, the regal power was to be administered with due 
respect to the freedom of the subject ; and, in conse- 
quence, the English barons, who could have no cause of 
personal complaint against the young king, began, upon 
this favourable prospect, to throng back to his standard, 
and to desert that of Louis of France. - 

Louis, who had received considerable re-enforcements 
from his father, and was naturally reluctant to aban- 
don what was once so hopeful an enterprise, still im- 
prudently persevered in his attempts on Dover Castle, 
without being able to overcome the resistance of Hubert 
de Burgh. Other indecisive sieges and skirmishes took 
place, until at length, in the beginning of the summer 
1217, (A. D.) the French army, under the Earl of 
Perche, was totally defeated under the walls of Lincoln, 
and in the streets of the town. This disaster closed the 
struggle, and a treaty of peace was concluded betwixt 
Louis and the Lord Protector, Pembroke, by which the 
former honourably stipulated for the indemnity of such 
English barons as adhered to his party, and for the free- 
dom, without ransom, of the numerous French prisoners 
taken at the battle of Lincoln. Under these conditions, 
Louis resigned his pretensions to the crown of England, 
and enoao'ed to use his intercession with his father for the 
restoration of the fief of Normandy, and others conquered 
from King John by Philip ; and if his intercession should 
prove ineffectual, the prince farther bound himself to 
restore these foreign dominions to England, when he him- 
self should accede to the throne of France. Prince 
Louis accordingly withdrew to France with all his forces, 
leaving the young prince, Henry, peacefully seated upon 
the throne. Thus terminated an important crisis, wliich 
threatened in the commencement to make England a 
province of France, as a fair and fertile part of France 
liad, in the time of the kings succeeding the Conquest, 
been fiefs of England, until taken from John, who ac- 
10 VOL. I- 4th See. 



213 WAR WITH THE ALBIGENSES KENEWED. 

quired, from, his loss of territory, the dishonourable title 
of Lack-Land, or landless. 

Louis, the Prince of France, having left one field of 
strife in England, found in his own country another, which 
was ahnost equally unsuccessful. This was the renewed 
war against the unfortunate heretics in the south, of France, 
called the Albigenses. These unhappy people had been 
treated with much oppression and cruelty by Simon de 
Montfort, who came against them at the head of the dis- 
solute and disorderly bands who were called crusaders, 
conquered them, and had been created their earl, or 
count. But he continued to persecute the heretics with 
sucli unrelenting severity, and so oppressed them, that, 
being able to endure their sufferings no longer, they 
rushed to arms, restored their old Count Raymond to the 
government of his fief, and became again formidable. 
Simon de Montfort hastened once more to form the siege 
of Toulouse ; but the cause of the oppressed was victo- 
rious, and this cruel and tyrannical leader fell before the 
city, while his wife and family remained the prisoners of 
the Albigenses. 

The Pope, alarmed at the success of these heretics, as 
he termed them, became urgent with King Philip to be 
active against them, while an assembly of the church, 
held at Mantes, again determined on preaching the cru- 
sade against the Albigenses. Philip, although he himself 
had gone to Palestine, in his memorable crusade with 
King Richard, was by no means a favourer of these im- 
politic expeditions. On the other hand, he dared not re- 
fuse the request of the Pope and clergy, and reluctantly 
permitted his son Louis, with an army of fifteen thousand 
men again to take the cross against the heretics in the 
south of France. But the prince prosecuted the war 
with so much coldness, that it was supposed Louis was 
either indifferent in the cause himself, or had private in- 
structions from his father not to conduct it with activity. 
At length he was recalled from the enterprise entirely, 
by his father's command. The pretext was, the neces- 
wiy of the p'-inc^'s attendance on a grand council, to be 



UEATH OF PHILIP AUGUSTUS. 519 

held at Mantes, for considering an offer made by Arnaury, 
son o£ Simon de Montfort. This young man, the heir of 
the title which his father had acquired over Toulouse by 
his first conquest, thought he perceived the reason why 
France was so cold in recovering these possession^;. He 
therefore proposed to cede to the crown of France hij 
own right to the earldom, that Philip and his son might 
have a deep personal interest in carrying on the war with 
vigour. This would probably have given more activity 
to the movements of Philip Augustus against the Albi- 
genses. But he did not survive to accept of the cession 
offered by de Montfort, as he died of a fever at Mantes, 
in July, 1223, (A. D.) He was incomparably the great 
est prince that had held the French throne since the days 
of Charlemagne. At his death, he left the proper domin- 
ions of France nearly doubled in extent, by his valour 
and prudence, and greatly improved in wealth, strength, 
tnd convenience, by the formation of roads, the fortifica- 
ti*. n cf defenceless towns, the creation of public works, 
anv.j other national improvements, arising from his wise 
administration. He was in general successful in his mili- 
tary exploits, as much owing to the sagacity with which 
he planned, as to the bravery with which he executed 
them. The battle of Bou vines, in particular, was one of 
those decisive contests upon which the fate of nations 
depends ; and had Philip been defeated, it is certain that 
France would have been divided by Otho and the con- 
federates, and doubtful, to say the least, whether it could 
have been again united into one single kingdom of the 
first rank. 



220 ACCESSION OF LOTUS THE LION. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Accession of Louts the Lion — War with England-" 
Crusade against the Albigenses — Death of Louis- 
Regency of Q^ueen Blanche — Conspiracy of the Crown 
Vassals suppressed, — Louis assumes the Cross — -Lands 
at Damietta, and captures that place — Disasters of the 
French in their march to Grand Cairo — Louis arid 
great part of his Army taken prisoners — JVegociations 
for their ransom — Murder of the Sultan by his Body 
Guard — Conduct of the Assassins towards the French 
King — Confinement of the Queen during her Hus- 
band^s captivity — Louis returns to France, on the 
Death of his Mother — his Despondency. 

Philip Augustus was succeeded in his throne by his 
eldest son, Louis VIII., whose unsuccessful wars in Eng- 
land we have already noticed. He was called by the 
surname of the Lion, from his personal courage, doubt- 
less, rather than from his success in arms, of which last 
he had not much to boast. 

He had scarcely assumed the throne, when he was 
greeted by an ambassador from Henry III., demanding 
the restoration of the provinces which the English mon- 
arch's ancestors had held in France, in terms of the treaty 
made and sworn to when he left England in 1217. Louis 
was, however, determined on no account to comply with 
this article, the fulfilment of which would have occasioned 
the revival of the English power in France, which had 
been so serious a subject of annoyance and apprehension 
to his predecessors. In vindication of the breach of his 
oath, he alleged that the English, on their part, had not 
tulfilled the treaty of 1217, that some of the English 
barons of his party had met with usage contrary to the 
promise of indemnity pledged in their behalf, and thai 
■ some French prisoners, made at the battle of Lincoln 



CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIGEN!ES. 221 

i.nstead of being set at liberty in terms of the compact, 
had been compelled to ransom themselves. 

Taking upon him, therefore, the character of one who 
had sustained, and not inflicted a wrong, King Louis, in- 
stead of restoring Normandy, proceeded, in imitation of 
his father's policy, to invade and besiege those towns 
which the English still possessed in Poitou ; and Niort, 
Saint Jean d'Angeli, and finally Rochelle itself, fell into 
his hands, after a valiant defence. Bourdeaux, and the 
country beyond the Garronne, was the only part of the 
ample dominions witliin France, once acknowledging the 
English authority, which still remained subject to that 
power. Tliis territory would probably have followed the 
fate of the other forfeited or reconquered fiefs, but Henry 
III., now a young man, sent an expedition, commanded 
by his brother Richai-d, Earl of Cornwall, and consisting 
of a considerable number of troops, to its relief. At the 
same time he created Richard Count of Poitou. The 
Gascons were favourable to the English, with whom they 
maintained a profitable traffic. They were also flattered 
by the proposal to place them immediately under the 
command of a prince of the English blood royal, and 
prepared to resist the invasion of Louis so obstinately, 
that the King of France thought it judicious to consent 
to a truce for three years. (A. D. 1224.) He had in- 
deed still upon his hands the civil war with the Albigen- 
ses ; and though he has been blamed for granting the 
English a truce, it may be supposed he acted wisely in 
undertaking only one of these formidable enterprises at a 
lime. 

He was urged to renew the crusade against the south- 
ern heretics, by the legate of the Pope, but in consenting 
to do so, failed not to secure such personal interest in the 
adventure, as might ensure to himself the principal ad- 
vantage of its success. For this purpose, Louis renewed 
\he treaty which his father had commenced with Amaury 
de JVlontfort, and promising to that count the post of High 
Constable of France, when a vacancy should occur, he 



222 DEATH OF lOUlS THE LION 

accepted fiom him the cession of all rights he inherited 
i'rom his father, the Count of Touloiise. 

Having thus provided for his own interest in the under- 
taking, the king assembled an army of fifty thousand 
men, consisting of the best and boldest of his vassals, at 
the head of their followers. With this large force he first 
besieged Avignon, wliere the citizens were at first dispos- 
ed to open their gates, but refused to receive any pei'son 
within them, except the king with his ordinary train. But 
unlimited access was demanded, and the townsmen, afraid 
too justly of pillage and .massacre, shut their gates, and 
stood on their defence. Tiiey fought with the utmost 
obstinacy, and the besiegers lost above two thousand men, 
amongst whom was that celebrated Cornte de Saint Paul, 
who had acquired so much honour at the battle of Bou- 
vines'. At lengtli the citizens of Avignon wf re compelled 
to submit to a capitulation, the terms of which were un- 
commonly severe. The establishment of ti)e Roman 
Catholic religion was exclusively provided for ; and two 
hundred hostages were given to that effect, sons of the 
most wealthy inhabitants. Some of those who had 
conducied the defence were hanged, or otherwise pun- 
ished ; the fortifications were dismantled ; the ditches 
filled up ; and three liundred of the best houses were 
levelled witli the ground, to complete the humiliation of 
the city. 

After Avignon had surrendered, it was the object of 
Louis to march against Toulouse, and inflict a similar 
vengeance on that town, the metropolis of the revolted 
province. But his army had suffered so severely from 
want of provisions, from the sword, and from pestilential 
disease, that the King was compelled to grant them some 
relaxation from military duty, which they were not at the 
iime capable of discharging. 

But Louis had himself performed before Avignon his 
last campaign. On retiring to Monpensier, he was seized 
with a fever, of which he died, 12th November, (A. D 
1226,) having reigned only four years, and being in the 
very pnme of his manhood. He was succeeded by hi? 



REGENCY OF QUEEN BLANCHE. 223 

Dnly son, who bore his own name, and was afterwards 
distinguished in the royal catalogue by the title of Saini 
Louis. The epithet of Saint, in those superstitious times, 
inferred at least as much weakness as virtue ; and we 
shall see that Louis, while he was an honour to the char- 
acter "n the higher virtues, was not without the imperfec- 
tions usually attending a reputation for sanctity, compre- 
hending, of course, much devotion to the Pope, and great 
liberality to the church. 

The Queen Blanche, relict of the deceased monarch, 
acted as regent for her son. She was eldest daugliter 
of Alphonso, King of Castile, byhis wife Eleanor, daugh- 
ter of tliat celebrated Eleanor of Aquitaine, by her 
second marriage with Henry 11. of England. The char- 
acter of Blanche, during the life of her husband, had not 
been called forth to any remarkable display; but Louis 
Vlll., who had great confidence in her wisdom, had 
named her in his settlement the regent of France, until 
his son should attain the years of majority. She had, 
therefore, an arduous duty to discharge, especially as very 
many of the crown vassals of the highest rank, dissatis- 
fied with the power attained by the king during the last 
two reigns, had formed a league together, u[)on the prin- 
ciple of that which was adopted by the confederates, 
previous to the battle of Bouvines, and the purpose of 
which, Philip's victory in that battle had for the time 
disconcerted. 

The opportune occurrence of a minority, during which 
the crown's authority was to be administered by a female, 
and a foreigner, seemed, to various of the petty princes, 
who were ambitious of rivalling; the king in all but the 
name, a time highly fitted for recovering by force, if 
necessary, that degree of independence of which they 
had been deprived by the policy and success of Philip 
[Augustus and his short-lived son, Louis the Lion. The 
still existing insurrection of the Albigenses was a great 
encouragement to the confederates, and Raymond of 
Toulouse was one of the most zealous of their number. 
He was ono who could be easily justified ; for, while tliH 



224 CONSPIRACY OF THE CROWN VASSALS. 

Others became rebels and conspirators, for objects of 
personal power and ambition, to which they had -a very 
doubtful claim, Raymond was a prince unjustly deprived 
of his territones, which he was naturally desirous to re- 
cover. 

The other nobles engaged in the conspiracy against 
the queen regent were, Philip, Count of Boulogne, the 
brother of the late king, who claimed the regency as of 
"ight appertaining to him by descent ; the powerful 
Earls or Counts Thibault, of Champagne, Hugh de la 
Marche, Hugh de Saint Paul, Simon de Ponthieu ; there 
was, besides, Peter, Duke of Bretagne ; a)! princes of 
the first rank for wealth, and power, which it was their 
object to hold with no greater degree of dependence on 
the crown of France, than they might find indispensable. 
In fact, it was their object to deprive the king of all 
power, beyond what might become a president of the 
cour pleniere, and general of the armies of the kingdom. 

Alone, or nearly so, a stranger and a woman, opposed 
to so many powerful nobles, Blanche conducted herself 
with great courage and ability. Ere the confederates had 
matured their plan of hostilities, she suddenly attacked 
Raymond of Toulouse, reduced him to ask terms by 
which he became bound to renounce the heretical opinions 
of the Albigenses, and to give his daughter and heiress 
in marriage to Alphonso, her own fourth son by the late 
king, and thus secured the final reversion of these rich 
territories to the royal family. 

The next part of her undertaking was the subjugation 
of the confederates, who laid aside the mask, and began 
to show their real purpose ; and here her female power^ 
extreme beauty and corresponding address, were of the 
greatest service. Thibault, Count of Champagne, a prince 
of great possessions, was renowned alike as a good knight, 
and as an excellent troubadour, or poet, in which ca- 
pacity he had, even during the life of her husband, Louis 
VIU., selected as the theme of his praise, and the sove- 
reign mistress of his affections, no other than Blanche 
herself. The adoration of a poet, in thoye times, had in 



ADDRESS OF ^UEEN BLANCHE. 22« 

il nothing tliat was necessarily hurtful to a lady's reputa- 
tion, nevertiieless, it was said that the queen had expressed 
resentment at the liberty which the Count of Champagne 
had taken in fixing his affections so high, and in making 
his admiration so public. It is even surmised, that the 
severity with which the queen treated the enamoL;red 
poet, was so highly resented by him, that his mortification 
was the cause of his joining the confederates. But a 
woman of address and beauty knows well how to recover 
the affections of an offended lover ; and if her admirer 
should be of a romantic and poetical temperament, he is 
still more easily recalled to his allegiance. It cost the 
queen but artfully throwing out a hint, that she would be 
pleased to see Thibault at court ; and the faithful lover 
was at her feet and at her command. On two important 
occasions, the enamoured troubadour disconcerted the 
plans of [lis political confederates, like a faithful knight, 
in obedience to the commands of the lady of his affec- 
tions. 

Upon one of these occasions. Count Thibault gave 
private intimation of a project of the inalecontents to 
seize the person of the queen, on a journey from Orleans 
to Paris. Their purpose, being once known, was easily 
defeated, by the queen-mother throwing herself and hei 
son into a strong fortress, till a suitable escort was col- 
lected to ensure their passage in safety to the capital. 
On another occasion the king having called an assembly 
of his nobles to oppose Peter of Bretagne, wdio had ap- 
peared' in open arms, the conspiring nobles agreed to 
bring each to the rendezvous a party of followers, in ap- 
parent obedience to the royal command, which, though it 
should seem but moderate, in regard to each indivirlual 
prince's retinue, should, when united, form a preponde- 
rating force. But this stratagem was also disconcerted 
by the troubadour Earl of Champagne, who, to please 
his royal mistress, brought a stronger attendance than all 
the others put together ; so, that, as none of the other 
great vassals dared to take the part of Peter of Bretagne, 
he was obliged to submit to the royal authority. 
954 



226 quEEN Blanche's influence over 

The Count of Champagne had hke to have desrl) 
bought his compliance with the pleasure of his lajtJy-love, 
instead of pursuing the line of politics of the confede- 
rates. He was attacked by the whole confederacy, who, 
enraged at his tergiversation, agreed to expel him fioin 
his country, and confer Champagne upon the Queen of 
Cyprus, who had some claim to it as heiress of Thibault's 
elder brother. Blanche was so far grateful to her de- 
voted lover, that she caused her son to march to his 
succour, and repel the attack on his territories. Yet she 
sought to gain something for the crown, by this act of 
kindness, and therefore intimated to the count, that, to 
defray the expenses of the war, and compensate the 
claims of his niece, it would be expedient that he should 
sell to the young king his territories of Blois, Chartres, 
Chateaudun, and Sansevre. The count murmured forth 
some remonstrances, in being required to part with so 
valuable a portion of his estates. But so soon as Blanche, 
with a displeased look, reproached him with his disobe- 
dience and ingratitude, he fetched a dee]) sigh, as he re- 
plied, " By my faith, madam, my heart, my body, my 
life, my land, are all at your absolute disposal !" The 
crown of France acquired the territory accordingly. 

Jt does not appear that the devotions of this inliituated 
lover were offensive to Queen Blanche herself, who, as a 
woman, might be proud of her absolute influence over a 
man of talents, and, as a politician, might judge it desi- 
rable to preserve that influence over a powerful nobleman, 
when it was maintained at the cheap price of an obliging 
word, or glance. But some of the French courtiers grew 
impatient of the absurd pretensions of Thibault to the 
queen's favour. They instigated Robert of Artois one 
of the sons of Louis VI II., who was little beyond child- 
liood, to put an affront upon the Count of Champagne 
by throwing a soft cream-cheese in his face. Enthusiasm 
of every kind is peculiarly sensible to ridicule. Thi- 
bault became aware that lie was laughed at, and a? the 
rank and youth of the culprit prevented the prince being 
the subject o{ revenge, the Count of Champagne retired 



THE COUNT Of CHAMPAGNE. 227 

from tlie court for ever, and in his feuda dominions en- 
deavoured lo find consolation in tlie favour of the uuises, 
for the rigour, and perhaps tlie duplicity, of his royal 
mistress. This troubadour monarch afterwards became 
King of Navarre, and his extravagant devotion to beauty 
and poetry did not prevent his being held, in those days, 
a sagacious as well as accomplished sovereign. 

Other mtrigues the queen mother was able to discon- 
cert, by timely largesses bestowed upon the needy among 
liie conspirators, while some she subdued by force of 
arms. In the latter case, she committed the conduct of 
the ro}al forces to Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, the same 
who was taken prisoner at the battle of Bouvines, who 
conducted himself with all the fidelity and intelligence 
she could have desired. And, in short, by pa.ience, 
courage, policy, and well used opportunity, Queen Blanche 
not only preserved that degree of authority which was 
attached to the throne when she was called to the ad- 
ministration of affairs, but consolidated and augmented it 
considerably. 

It may be that the wars and intrigues of the Queen of 
France would have ended less fortunately, if the weight 
of England had been thrown into the opposite scale ; 
and you may wonder that this was not the case, since no 
time could have occurred more suitable than the minority 
of Saint Louis, for the recovery of those French territo- 
ries which the skill and conduct of Philip Augustus won 
from the imbecility of liis contemporary. King John. 
Indeed, at the accession of Louis VIII., when the period 
was less favourable, Henry III., or his connsellois, liad^ 
as we observed, made a formal demand that Normandy, 
and the other provinces claimed by England, should be 
restored. But although many of the barons of the prov- 
inces once attached to England offered their assistance 
eaiieiiy ; akhough the possession of Bourdeaux rendered 
a descent easy ; although the Duke of Bretagne, whom 
ive have mentioned as a chief of the league against the 
crown of France, endeavoured to (u-ge the court of Eng- 
land to an invasion, which he pledged himself to supDorl 



228 CHARACTER OF HENRY III. 

with his utmost force ; yet the character of Henry lit 
;if Enirland was totally unfit for such an undertakin":. 
He had some of his father John's faults, being, though 
less cruel than he, fully as timid in his person, and as 
rash in his attempts. He was extravagantly expensive, 
and notoriously faithless ; an encroacher upon tlie rights 
of his subjects, and repeatedly guilty of the breach of 
his most solemn promises and engagements to them. 
Henry was also, like his father, an indolent and wretched 
conductor of an undertaking requiring activity and reso- 
lution. In 1229, (A. D.) Henry did indeed attempt liis 
long-threatened invasion of France ; but with so little 
precaution, that, when his army was assembled, it was 
found there had been no care taken to provide an ade- 
quate number of vessels. They passed to St. ftlaloes, 
however, and were joined by the Duke of Bretagne, with 
all his forces, but instead of leading the army to action, 
Henry spent the money which had been provided for 
their support in mere lavish and expensive follies, and 
returned to England after three or four months' idle and 
useless stay in France, almost without having broken a 
lance in the cause which had induced him to leave his 
kingdom. On returning to England, this imprudent prince 
became engaged in those intestine divisions with his peo- 
ple which were called tlie Barons' Wars, and which left 
him no time, if he had had inclination, to trouble him- 
self about the affairs of France. Meantime the Duke 
of Bretagne, deserted by his ally, was hard pressed by 
the royal forces, and demanded a respite only till he 
should make application to Henry for relief On re- 
ceiving a refusal, the unfortunate duke saw himself 
obliged to present himself before his sovereign, the King 
of France, with a halter around his neck, and solicit 
mercy in the most humiliating terms. The disgrace .of 
this pageant lay with the English king, whose neglect tc 
«5upi)ort his allv had rendered this scene of abject sub- 
nission the only road to safety which the deserted prince 
could pursue. 

England being thus occupied with her internal quar- 



BLANCHE S ASCENDENCY OVER HER SON. 229 

relsj the Queen mother Blanclie met with no interruption 
from tlmt quarter, while she extended the power of her 
son over tlie discontented vassals whose ohject it had 
been to restrict it. But with her grandtnother Eleanor 
of Aquitaine's masculine energies of disposition, Blanche 
possessed no small share of her ambition. She was in no 
hurry to surrender to her son the supreme power which 
she had administered so well ; nor did the dutiful Louis, 
though now approaching his twenty-first year, seem im- 
patient to take upon himself the character of governor. 
On the contrary, although he assumed the name of sov- 
ereign, yet he continued to yield to the queen mother, at 
least in a great measure, the actual power of administra- 
tion. 

It was said, that this deference to maternal authority, 
more implicit than was becoming for him to yield, or his 
mother to exact, arose from his having been educated 
more like a monk, to whom strict obedience is one great 
duty enjoined, than like a sovereign, who was not only 
to think for himself, but to decide upon the actions ot 
others. Signs of this monastic education were to be seen 
in the bigoted attachment with which the future saint re- 
garded every thing either really religious, or affecting to 
be so ; and the narrowness of his mode of thinking in 
this respect led to the principal misfortunes of his reign. 
It is possible, however, that committing his educ lion 
almost entirely to churchmen, might be a measure 
-adopted as much from the queen mother's own super- 
stitious feelings, as from a desire to keep her f.on in the 
background. 

Blanche's jealousy of those of her own sex who ap- 
proached her son and sought to please him, was not, per- 
haps, an extraordinary, though an inconvenient excess of 
maternal fondness. But she was singularly unreasonable 
in extending her jealousy to her son's wife, a beautiful 
woman, Margaret, one of the daughters of Raymond 
Berenger, Count of Provence. The servants of the 
household had orders, when the King and Queen wore 



230 LOUIS ASSUMES THE CROSS, 

in pri\ate together, to wliip the doi^s which \ver« ?,bont 
the royal apartment, so lliat the cries of the animals 
might give the queen mother a hint to burst in on the 
retirement and priyacy of her son and iiis wife. Tlie 
young queen reproached her mother-in-law with this jeal- 
ous vigilance ; and when Blanche caused Louis to removo 
from the apartment in which his wife was about to be 
confined, "You will not let me speak with my husband," 
said iMargaret, " whether living or dying." 

The docility of the son, in a case where he had a 
reasonable excuse for resistance, seems to have been car- 
ried to an amiable excess. Yet, it is certain, that whether 
her contluct in this particular arose out of policy or n)is- 
taken fondness, the love of Blanche for her son was 
'equally sincere and maternal. In the bias, however, 
which his mind had taken towards a strict interpretation 
of his duties in snorality and religion, tinged as the latter 
was with the superstition of his age, it was plain that the 
first iin|iulse which Louis might consider as a direction 
fiom Heaven, would induce him to fall into the prevailing 
error of the time, by assuming the cross, and departing 
for the Holy Land. 

Accordingly, a sudden illness, m which he remained 
insensible for the space of twenty-four hours, struck the 
young king with such alarm, that he took the cross from 
the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, and made a solemn 
vow to march in person against the infidels with a royal 
army. It was in vain that the wisest of his ministers 
pointed out to Louis the disasters which his predecessors 
had sustained by such imprudent and ill-fated engage- 
ments. Even his mother, though his departure must 
restore her to full power as regent, in name as well as 
authority, dissuaded her son from this fatal enterprise. 
In reply, the king maintained, that as he had continued 
to recover hourly since his vow was taken, the purport 
of it must of course have been agreeable to the divine 
will ; and he would only promise that he would endeavour 
to arrange the preparations for his enterprise, at full 
ieis.ire, and with as much precaution as should secure its 



ANU DEPARTS FOR THE HOLY LAND. 23 J 

success, and the safety of his dominions during his ab- 
sence. He oblair cd from tiie church a grant of the tenth 
of tlieir revenues, to sustain the expense of his under- 
taking. Gradually, too, he prevailed upon many of the 
nobility, and among these the Count of Marche and the 
Duke of Bretagne, two of the most powerful and turbu- 
lent of their number, to follow his example, and accom- 
pany him to the East. 

The motions of the future saint were arrested during 
his j)reparations, by the arrival at his court of Richard, 
King of the Romans, brother of Henry HI. of England, 
with an embassy from that power. " Sir King of 
France," said this distinguished envoy, " you cannot un- 
dertake to wage a holy war against the infidels, until you. 
do justice to your brother of England, bereft as be has 
been by your father of the provinces belonging to him in 
France." 

The King of France was so much startled at this ob- 
jection to his purpose, that he referred the case, as a 
scruple of conscience, to a conclave of Norman bishops ; 
and it was not till they formally gave their opinion that 
no restitution sliould be made, that Louis declined the 
request of the King of the Romans. 

King Louis now prepared for his crusade, and departed, 
carrying with him his young wife, although the instance 
of Philip le Jeune was a bad example to recommend 
such policy. Robert and Charles, his two brothers, also 
accompanied the king in his adventurous expedition. 
Passing down the Rhone fi'om Lyons, he embarked from 
the shores of the Mediterranean, and landed at Cyprus 
on the 25th September, 1274, (A. D.) It was his pur- 
pose to proceed from thence in the spring, in order to 
mvade the kingdom of Egvpt ; for experience bad mad« 
it obvious, that, although Palestine might be conquered 
for a season, it coidil never be eAbctually protected oi 
defended, as an independent Christian state, until the 
infidels should be deprived of the populous and rich king- 
dotn of Egypt, which lay so near the Holy Land. The 
number of his army amounted ^o about fifty thousand 



232 CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 

men, of which it was computed there were ten thousand 
cavah-y ; and they disembarked in safety, as they had 
proposed, before the town of Damietta. Here Louis, 
who, with all his superstition, displayed a great fund of 
personal warth and bravery, sprung into the sea in com- 
plete armour, waded ashore among the foremost, with the 
Oriflamme displayed, and made good his landing in spite 
of twent) thousand men, by whom the shore and city of 
Damietta were defended. The invaders seized upon, 
and garrisoned the city, which was opulent, extensive, 
and well foitified. Louis, with wise precaution, took into 
his custody the magazines which they had acquired in 
the storm which followed the capture ; but the subordi- 
nate leaders of the crusade were dissatisfied, contending 
that, on such occasions, the share of the commander-in- 
chief was limited to one-third of the spoil, and that the 
rest belonged to his associates. This introduced dissatis- 
faction and insubordination among the feudal lords, and 
greatly affected Louis's authority. 

Want of discipline being thus introduced, it was speed- 
ily perceived that the army of Saint Louis was not of 
better morals than those of other crusaders, and the ut- 
most licentiousness was practised, under the countenance 
of some of the courtiers, within a stone's cast of the 
king's own pavilion. In the meantime, the crusaders 
remained in Damietta, waiting, first for the abatement of 
tlie inundation of the Nile, and thereafter for the arrival 
of Alphonso, Count of Poitiers, who had been separated 
from his brother by stress of weather, or, as others say, 
had been later than Louis in setting out from France. 
This prince arrived at length ; and Louis resolved to sally 
from the city, for the purpose of marching to Grand ' 
Cairo, which the invaders termed Babylon. But the 
river Nile, wliich the Christians believed to come from 
the terrestrial Paradise, was at that time still in flood, and 
interrupted their march on every side. One broad canal 
in particular, opposed their passage. As they had neither 
boat? nor bridges, the crusaders attempted to cross the 
canal by means of a mound— -an awkward ccnlrivanre. 



GALLANTRY OF THE FRENCH. 233 

in which t ley totally failed. While engaged in this fruit- 
less labour, the Christians were opposed at every turn by 
the light-armed Saraoens who attacked the military en- 
gmes by which they endeavoured to cover their passage, 
with balls of Greek fire, a species of inflammable matter 
shot from the artillery then in use, extremely difficult to 
quench, and which fiew through the air, resembling in 
appearance a fiery dragon. Saint Louis himself seems 
rather to have sought refuge in his tears and devotions, 
than in attempting to stop the conflagration. The cru- 
saders were obliged to renew the engines which had been 
destroyed, with such part of the ships as could be dis- 
mantled for that purpose. Tlie Count of Artois, with 
imprudent valour, found at length the means of passing 
the canal at a dangerous ford ; and, instead of halting 
till he was supported, rushed on with two thousand horse, 
and forced his way into the village of Massoura, where 
the Saracens gave themselves up for lost. But their 
troops being rallied by a valiant soldier, who was after- 
wards raised to the rank of sovereignty, the advanced 
party of the Count of Artois were enclosed within the 
village. The inhabitants poured on them stones, javelins, 
arrows, scalding water, and all sorts of missiles from tlie 
roofs of the liouses, which were flat, and well adapted 
to this species of defence. Most of the Christians were 
slain ; and the Count of Artois, after having for some 
time defended himself in one of the houses of the vil- 
lage, at lenijth fell fii;;htin!j valiantly. 

The king, to whom his brother's death was reported, 
wept bitterly for the loss he had sustained ; and was 
much grieved when he heard that the chief of the Sara- 
cens displayed the coat-of-armour of the fallen prince, as 
if it had been that of the king himself. Although tlie 
French had the worst in this unequal and confused bat- 
tle, their chivalry maintained the reputation which it had 
in Europe. Louis, surrounded by several Saracens, de» 
fended liimself against them all ; and when siy of the 
pnncipa Mamelukes took shelter behind a heap of stones 



234 LOUIS RETREATS, AND WITH 

from tlie shot of :he French crossbows, to which they 
replied with arrows and Greek fire, a stout priest called 
John de VVaysy, clad in his cuirass and head-|)iece, and 
armed witli liis two-handed sw^ord, lushed on theai so 
suddenly, that, astonished at his resolution, they dis- 
persed themselves and fled. But notwithstanding these, 
and many other feats of arms highly honourable to the 
crusaders, the losses of the Saracens were easily re- 
placed ; whereas, every soldier that fell on the part of 
the French, was an irreparable loss. A subsequent ac- 
tion in which the Greek fire was showered upon the 
Christians so that it covered even Louis's own horse^ and 
burnt whatever was opposed to it, both men and military 
engines, completed the disasters of this unfortunate army. 
The invaders were now reduced to a defensive warfare ; 
and this was sustained at the greatest disadvantage. A 
dreary duty remained, after these battles were over. 
Tlie king, says his historian Joinville, hired a hundred 
labourers to separate the bodies of the Christians from 
those of the pagans ; the former were interred ; the 
Saracens were thrust under the bridge, and floated down 
to the sea. 

" God knows," says the gallant knight, " how noisome 
was the smell, and how miserable it was to see the bodies 
of such noble and worthy persons lie exposed. 1 wit- 
nessed the chamberlain of the late Count of Artois seek- 
ing the body of his master, and many more hunting after 
those of their friends ; but none who were exposed to 
the infectious smell, while engaged in this office, ever 
recovered tlieir health. Fatal diseases in consequence 
broke out in the army ; their limbs were dried up and 
destroyed, and almost all were seized with a complaint in 
'».he mouth, from wdiich many never recovered." The 
Sv^urvy, whicii is intimated by tliis last disease, made 
frightful ravages among the crusaders, a part of whom 
were now cooped up in Damietta, or under its walls 
The Saracens dragged their armed galleys across the 
land, and laimclied ijiem in the Nile, beneath the city 
which was thus blockaded by land and water. Provisions 



HIS ARMY TAKEN CAPTIVE. 235 

weie extremely scarce, and the eels of the river, wliich 
fed upon the numberless dead bodies, became tlie princi 
pal subsistence of the French arn)y, and increased the 
pestilential disease. 

Tlie condition of the Christians became now so despe- 
rate, that Louis resolved to retreat to Damietta, and call 
in all the outposts and vanguard of his army, which were 
on their march to Cairo. The kinii; himself mi^-ht have 
made his retreat in safety by water ; but it was no part 
of his plan to desert his army. He himself quitted his 
own battalion, and, with Sir Geoffrey de Sergines, joined 
the rear division, thus continuing his countermarch as far 
as the town of Casel. In the latter part of his retreat, 
the Turks catneso close upon him, that Sir Geoffrey was 
obliged to drive them off with strokes of the blade and 
point of his sword ; at length, the unfortunate prince was 
reduced to such a state, that he was obliged to lie down 
with i)is head in the lap of a female, who had come from 
Paris ; he expected every moment to die in that posture. 
Walter de Chatillon, with the constancy of a gallant 
knight, planted himself alone at the door of the house in 
which the king lay, attacked every infidel who passed, 
and put them repeatedly to flight. Tlie king, who saw 
him rush to the attack alone, brandishing his sword, and 
rising in his stirrups, exclaimed, in his hour of distress, 
" Ha, Chatillon ! gallant knight, where are all our good 
companions?" The faithful knight was at length over- 
powered by numbers, and his fate made known by the 
condition of his horse, which was seen covered with blood 
in the possession of a Saracen, who claimed th.e merit of 
having slain its gallant master. 

In the meantime, most of those who had fled, rather 
than retreated, towards Damietta, had already been slaugh- 
tered by the Saracens, or had delivered themselves up 
to captivity. Scarcely even the deplorable catastrophe 
of Louis le Jeune was more unfortunate in its conse- 
quences, than the termination of the last crusade but one 
prepared for with so much care, and ending with so muci: 
wretchedness. The King, his remaining brother, many 



236 TOURAN SHAH, THE SULTAN, 

princes of the blood royal and high noblesse, and the 
wreck of his noble army, fell as captives into the , hands 
of the infidels, and were treated with the most atrocious 
severity. 

Upon the first surrender of the prisoners, the only 
choice assigned them was that of embracing the Moslem 
faith, or submitting to instant death ; and by far the great- 
er part adopted the choice of martyrdom. When, how- 
ever, it began to be discovered that most of the prison- 
ers had the means of paying a high ransom, the barba- 
rians, into whose hands they fell, became more desirous 
of lucre than of bloodshed, and exchanged for ransom 
most of those who were able to comply with their de- 
mands. The Sultan of Egypt began also to reflect that 
Damietta was still garrisoned by the Christians, and might 
safely apprehend their retaining it till succours should 
come from Europe. These considerations made him de- 
sirous of an accommodation, by which he should rid 
Egypt of its troublesome visiters. 

But the nature of the government to which that coun- 
try was now subjected, rendered the fate of the prisoners 
extremely uncertain, and precarious ; but to enable you 
to understand the circumstances in which they were 
placed, it is necessary to explain what the nature of that 
government was. 

Touran Shah, the reigning sultan of Egypt, was a 
great-grand.' on of the brother of the famous Saladin, 
whom we have seen the opponent of Richard Coeur de 
Lion ; but the followers of these sultans had been ren- 
dered effeminate by the pleasures of a rich country, and 
were no longer capable of engaging in battle, or attaining 
victory over such rugged opponents, as King Louis and 
his Franks. To supply this general deficiency of cour- 
age and sp rit in their soldiers, the preceding sultans of 
Egypt had been accustomed to levy chosen troops from 
the numerous bands of slaves, which they bought on the 
verge of Tartary, or in other foreign countries. Tiiese. 
chiefly Georgians, Circassians, and the like, were select- 
ed while children, for their form and strength, carefully 



AND HIS MERCENARIES. 23*1 

educated in martial exercises, and taughV io understand 
from early years tliat their distinction in life must depend 
upon the undaunted use which they should learn to make 
of their spears and scimitars. They were allowed i)is,li 
pay and great privilej^es, and those who distinguislied 
themselves were raised to the rank of officers over the 
others. From these chosen troops the sultan selected 
his viziers', generals, lieutenants, and governors. 

As has been always found tlie case in similar instances, 
this body of mercenary soldiers became dangerous even 
to the prince in wliose service they were enrolled, and 
frequently assumed the light of disposing of the crown, 
which they were engaged to defend, as well as tlie life of 
him that wore it. It was they who, with such determined 
valour, had interrupted the advance, and followed up the 
retreat, of the valiant Franks ; and, filled with a high 
idea of their own prowess, and a contempt of tlie native 
troops of the country, they thought that Touran Shah 
was not sufficiently grateful to tiiem for the victory which 
he had obtained by their support, or that he manifested 
some intention of laying them aside for a more docile 
.soldiery. 

Of this unfortunate sultan we know little ; but he ap- 
pears neither to have been destitute of the bravery nor 
the generosity wdiich became a successor of Saladin. The 
valiant Sieur de Joinville saw h'un in the front of battle, 
taller by the shoulders than those around him, and wield- 
ing with courage the German sword which he bore in his 
hand. His gilded helmet was placed proudly on his 
head; "and 1 never," says the historian, "saw a more 
gallant man under arms." Nor was his conduct less 
jirincely than his appearance. At first, indeed, the 
French in their captivity were threatened with a terrific 
death by torture, unless they would renounce the Chris- 
tiaii faith to ensure their personal "safety. Such a pro- 
posal under such tremendous threats, was made to the 
king himself. But when Saint Louis jhowed by his 
firmness thai he held such menaces in scorn, the Saracen 
prmce s';nt a message in a milder tone, demanding tc 



238 NEGOTIATION FOR A RANSOM. 

know wliat ransom the captive monarch was \viHin'T^ to 
pay, in addition to the suirender of Damietta, which was 
stipulated as one indispensable condition ol' his heedom. 

The King of Fiance replied, that if a reasonable ran- 
som was demanded, he would write to the queen, who 
was sfdl enclosed within the walls of Damietta, to pay it 
for him and for his army. The Saracens, whose man- 
ners permitted of no admission of women to their councils, 
asked with surprise to what purpose the queen should be 
consulted in such an affair. " Have I not reason ?" an- 
swered the simple-mannered and gallant-liearted Louis ; 
" is she not my wife and my companion ?" A second 
message informed the captive monarch that his ransom 
was fixed by the Sultan at a million of golden bezants, — 
equal, says Joinville, to five hundred thousand livres. At 
once, and without attempting farther to chaffer upon the 
bargain ; " I will cheerfully give," said Louis, " five 
hundred thousand livies for ransom of my army ; and for 
my own I will surrender the town of Damietta to the 
sultan ; for my rank is too high to be valued in money." 
Tiie suhan was seized with a generous emulation. " He 
is a right generous Frank," said Toiu'an Shah, " who 
does not cheapen our first offer like a merchant or ped- 
lar ; tell him 1 abate my demand in one-fifth, and that 
four hundred thousand livres shall be a most sufficient 
ransom." He also sent garments for the king's use, and 
seemed disposed to part with him upon liberal terms. 

But while Touran Shah was disposing of the fate of 
another, he little knew how near he approached to his 
own. The discontent of his body-guard of slaves, then 
called Haleuca, and the same which are now distinguisned 
by the well-known name of Mamelukes, had risen to the 
highest. Tliey broke out into insurrection, attacked the 
•jnfoilunate Touran Shah, set fire to his pavilion, and 
cut that unfortunate prince to pieces. 

Having connniited this murder, they came before tlie 
king and the Fi-ench captives, with their bloody baitle- 
EaC'S and sabres in their hands. '• What will you give 
me." said the foremost assassin, who was yet streaming 



PROPOSAL TO MAKE LOUIS SULTAN. 239 

with the blood of Tooran Sliali^ " who have slain tlie 
enemy that sought tliy life ?" To this Saint Louis 
returned no answer. The French knights confessed 
themselves to each, other, expecting to be immediately 
massacred. Yet in the very flusli^ moment of their 
king's murder, and while seeming still greedy of more 
blood, the conspirators felt restraint from the dignified 
demeanour of their disarmed prisoner. They also re 
rnembered that Damietta still held a Christian garrison_ 
which might give them trouble. Under such impressions, 
they showed indeed a disposition sufficiently mischievous, 
yet they entered into new conditions, somewhat similar to 
those tliat had been prescribed by the murdered Touran 
Shah, but stipulating that the king should take an oath, 
binding him lo renounce his baptism and his faith, with 
the inestimable privileges purchased by them, in case he 
did not coniply with all the articles of the treaty. Louis 
constantly and magnanimously answered, " he would 
rather die a good Cliristian, than live l)y taking the im- 
pious and sinful oath which they would force upon him.'' 
The Patriarch of Jerusalem, who was present at the mo- 
jnent, was immediately seized by the soldiers, and tied 
to a post, so tightly, that the bK)od sprung from his hands, 
while the old man in agony called upon the king to swear 
boldly whatever the infidels chose, since he would take 
the sin upon his own soul, rather than endure this horrid 
torture. But whether the oath was taken or not, Join- 
ville^eclares he cannot tell. 

In the meantime the scene suddenly clianged, as was 
not urinatural among such fickle and barbarous men. A 
mirthful sound of trumpets and kettle-drums was heard 
before the tent, and King Louis was presented with an 
invitation from tha chiefs of the late conspiracy, to be- 
come theii sultan and sovereign, in room of the murdered 
Touran Shah. That such a proposal should be started, 
dnu)ng other wild plans, by men in tlie condition of the 
Mamelukes, slaves, strangers, and foreigners, indifferent 
to the Mahometan religion, and impressed by the un- 
daunted bravery of their royal captive was not perhajis 



240 DISTRESS OF THE QUEEN. 

SO unnatural as if it bad been made elsewhere, or by 
otliers. But it does not seem to have been generally" 
embraced., or seriously insisted on. On the contrary, 
some of the leading emirs were of opinion, that, to alone 
for the treasonable slaughter of Touran Shah, a good 
Mahometan, by their hands, it was their duty to put 
to deatli Saint Louis and his followers, the mortal ene- 
mies of IMahomet and his religion. At length, however, 
the proposition for mercy prevailed, and a treaty for ran- 
som was carried into execution. 

Wliile these strange negotiations, if indeed they can 
be called such, were proceeding in this wild and mcertain 
maimer, Joinville informs us of other circumstances re- 
specting the Queen of France, who, as I before informed 
you, having accompanied her husband in this calamitous 
expedition, was enclosed with the remnant of the crusa- 
ders that held out Damietta. She was at that time with 
child ; a circumstance adding much to the distress of her 
situation, during her husband's captivity, aggravated by 
(he probability that she herself might fall into the hands 
of the victorious infidels. Her period of confinement 
was now close approaching. 

" Three days before she was brought to bed," says the 
faithful chronicler of the expedition, " she was informed 
that the good king her husband had been made prisoner, 
which so troubled her mind, that she seemed continually 
to see her chamber filled with Saracens, ready to slay her ; 
and she incessantly kept crying, ' Help, help !' when there 
was not a soul near her. For fear the fruit of her womb 
should perish, she made a knight watch at the foot of her 
bed all night without sleeping. This person was very 
old, not less than eighty years, or perhaps more ; and 
every time she screamed, he held her hands, and said, 
' Madam, do not be thus alarmed ; I am with you ; quit 
these fears.' Before the good lady was brought to bed, 
she ordered every person to leave her chamber, except 
this ancient knight, when she cast herself out of bed on 
her knees before him, and requested that he would grant 
oer a boon. The knight with an oath, promised compli- 



LOUIS EMBARKS FOR ACRE. 24 J 

ance. The queen then said, ' Sir knight, I request on 
the oath you have sworn, that, should the Saracens stornj 
this town ind take it, you will cut oif my head belbre 
they seize my person.' The knight replied, that he 
would cheerfully do so, and that he had before thought of 
it, in case such an event should happen. The queen waSj 
shortly after, delivered of a son in the town of Damietta, 
whose name was John, and his surname Tristan, (i. e. 
the Sad,) because he had been born in misery and pov- 
erty. The day he was born, it was told the queen that 
the Pisans, the Geonese, and all the poorer European 
oommonalty (sailors,) that were in the town, were about 
to fly with their vessels, and leave the king. The queen 
sent for them. ' Gentlemen,' she said, ' 1 beg of you, 
for the love of God, that you will not think of quitting 
this town, for you well know, if you do, that my lord the 
king and his whole army will be ruined. At least, if such 
be your fixed determination, have pity on this wretched 
person who now lies in pain, and wait until she be recov- 
ered, before you put it in execution.' " - 

To carry her solicitations into effect, the queen was 
obliged to purchase provisions to feed these wretched 
mariners, who complained that they must otherwise perish 
by hunger ; and the sum so expended amounted to two 
hundred and sixty thousand livres, the difficulty of find- 
ing which was an augmentation of her distress. 

In this manner, after sufTering repeated hardships, 
Louis, his queen, and his lords, were at length permit- 
ted to embark for Acre, at the head of the remnant of 
his army. When he had thus arrived on ground where he 
might consider himself as perfectly free, King Louis again 
became inspired with the rash Quixotry of persisting in 
his crusade. The Christians, or Latins, of Syria, found 
it their interest to foster this enthusiasm, by holding out 
remote and fanciful prospects of his receiving assistance. 
Louis was amused with wild stories of the Sheik, or 
Cliief, of the Assassins, who 'was supposed peculiarly 
<l'iendly to the King of France, and of an imaginary prince, 

955 



242 DISORDERS IN FRAN JE. 

n Christian b) profession, and a Tartar b} birth, whom these 
limes termed Prester John, and from whose ideal assist- 
ance Louis was taught to expect the means of retrieving 
his affairs. It was still less, however, such fallacious 
hopes of foreign and eastern assistance, than a sense of 
mortification as a devotee, and dishonour as a true knight, 
which rendered Louis reluctant to return to his own king- 
don), witliout having distinguished his arms in some vic- 
tory against the Mahometans. 

To pave the way for this much-desired object, Louis 
.displayed .great ability and diligence in allaying quarrels 
among the Christians in Palestine, for which he was ad- 
mirably fitted by the native justice and benevolence of 
his character, and also in fortifying vVcre, Csesarea, Jop- 
pa, and other places of importance, and in preparing for a 
new war in Syria. 

The immediate result of his labours was highly useful 
to Syria, insomuch that the king obtained the honourable 
title of Father of the Christians. But in acting towards, 
these eastern Latins with wisdom_and benevolence, Louis 
forgot that he owed a still more pressing duty to his own 
kingdom, where general confusion prevailed. For, while 
Louis thus pleased his fancy by providing for battles in 
Palestine that were never to be fought, the disorders oc- 
casioned by the news of his captivity had thrown al 
France into dismay. His mother. Queen Blanche, who 
acted as regent, had lost in some degree that strength 
and alertness of mind which distinguished her during her 
son's minority. Upon his departure from Marseilles, she 
fainted on bidding him adieu, and could scarcely be re- 
called to life, — showing plainly that she felt her sop's ab- 
sence more deeply than she was gratified by her own 
elevation to authority. Finally, receiving the melancholy 
tidings of his defeat and imprisonment, her sorrow ^eems 
to have weakened her understanding. 

She suffered a wretched monk, somewhat resembling 
.ine of those bigots who *led the first expedition under 
Peter the Hermit, to gather toj^ether a rabble of the lo^^'ost 
rank, to whom he tiied to preach a new crusade, fo *Ue 



OEATH OF Q,UEEN BLANCHE. ^43 

purpose of effecting the liberation of the king. The 
disorderly vagabonds, thus assembled, who lived at first 
upon alms, became soon guilty of plunder, and gave rise 
to a civil war, in which tliey were at length defeated and 
extirpated by the forces of the government, but not with- 
out much loss and confusion. This intestine disorder was 
likely to be increased by a war with England, ujton the 
expiry of the truce between these countries. 

In the meantime Queen Blanche, the regent-mother, be- 
came altojietlier broken-hearted on hearing of her son's 
misfortunes, and retired into a convent, where she died 
of n)elancholy. Her death was naturally a subject of 
affliction to King Lou's ; but the young Queen Margaret, 
considering the terms on which she stood with her moth- 
er-in-law, could scarcely be supposed to share deej)ly in 
his affliction. On receiving these tidings, Louis yielded 
to necessity, and prepared to return to France with the 
remains of his army. 

During his voyage from Syria, the king showed many 
marks of sorrow and dejection, the consequences no doubt 
of the unsatisfactory issue of his crusade ; his temper also 
became austere, and even gloomy, of which the following 
is an instance. At one time he enquired or his brother, 
whom he accused of having avoided his presence, although 
they were both in the same galley. When Louis at length 
discovered the Comte d'Anjou, in the act of playing at 
tables with Sir Walter de Nemours, he staggered towards 
them, though scarcely able to stand from severe illness, 
seized the dice and tables which he flung into the sea, 
and severely rebuked his brother for engaging in this tri- 
fling amusement, forgetful of the death of their brotiier, 
the Comte d'Artois, and of the extreme danger from 
which they had been providentially extricated. '• But," 
says De Joinville, with some naivete, " Sir Walter de 
Nemours suffered the most, fof tne king flung all the 
money tliat lay on the tables after them into the sea." 

When Louis arrived, after a voyage often weeks, upon 
the cc^st of Provence, he was persuaded with difficulty 
lo land at Hieres, because that port was not his own 



244 LOUIS ARRIVES IN FRANCE. 

property. He yielded, however, in consideration ol the 
iihiess of the ladies, and once more, with diminished for- 
ces and somewhat of a tarnished reputation, resumed 
possession of his own kingdom. His mehincholy coun- 
tenance, in wliich he hore the deep marks of dejection, 
and the plainness of his dress, in which he never assumed 
royal splendour, implied how much he had suflered sinco 
his departure^ both in mind and body. 



END OF VOLUME I. 



TALES FROM FRENCH HISTORY. 



CHAPTER I. 



IVise and peaceful Reign of Saint Louis — his Expedi- 
lion against Tunis, and Death — The Kingdom of 
the Two Sicilies given by the Pope to Charles of Au' 
jou, brother of St. Louis — Arrival of Charles before 
Tunis, ivith re-enforcements — Treaty with the Sultan 
— the Crusade abandoncd-r-f'^igorous Administration 
of Philip the Hardy — his Second Marriage — The 
(^ueen accused by her Huaband's Favourite of poison- 

■ ing her Step-son — she is acquitted and the Favourite 
disgraced and executed — Wars to decide the possession 
of the Crown of the Two Sicilies — The Sicilian J^es- 
pers — Philip^s unsuccessful attempt to take possession 
of the Kingdom of Arrugon — his Death. 

King Lons, upon his return to France, manifested the 
same prudence, wisdom, and jud!2;ment in his measures, 
wliich he liad shown in Syria to less effectual purpose — 
He hastened to make peace with Enirland, in considera- 
tion of which he received Henry HI. at Paris with 
sumptuous liospilality. Tlie claims of England upon 
Nonnaudy were now rather antiquated. " I would wil- 
lingly i-esiore the province," said the King of France to 
the English monarch, in a confidential n)anner, " hut my 
peers and barons will not consent to my doing so." Kino 
Henry therefore exchanged his claims on Normandy, An- 
jou, Touraine, and Poitou, for some trifling territories ad- 



4 Eq,UITABLE ADMINISTRATION 

jacent to Gascony, the only portion of Henry II. 's French 
doiaiiiions which his grandson still retained. 

Louis now reigned in peace and honour. From the 
universal confidence reposed in his justice and equity, 
both his own subjects and strangers were freri'.cnt'y i:. the 
cubtom of referring to him matters which were in aeoate 
between tliem. This course was the more resorted to, as 
the good king frequently indemnified at his own expense 
the party against whom he gave his award. Thus, when 
the queen's mother, the Countess of Provence, disputed 
the right of some castles with the king's brother, the 
Count of Anjou, Louis decreed that they should be pur- 
chased by the latter from the Count of Provence, but at 
the same time gave his brother money to pay the price. 
Jn any dispute with the crown, the opposite party found 
it m.ost advantageous to trust to the candour of the king 
himself, who always judged his own side of the cause 
with the greatest sevei'ity. Thus this good king gained 
the hearts of the insubordinate vassals who had often con- 
spired against his predecessors. 

This able prince was farther distinguished as a legis- 
lator, in which capacity, the manners and customs of that 
age being considered, he makes a distinguished figure in 
French history, and may fairly be preferred to any sov- 
ereign who at tiiat time flourislied in Europe. In partic- 
ular, he endeavoured to maintain tlie tranquillity of the 
Kingdom, by the suppression of the numerous private 
quarrels among the great vassals of the crown, and greatly 
curbed the right which they assumed of taking the field 
like independent sovereigns, as had been formerly their 
custom. These great lords, overawed by the reputation 
and power of the king, were now, generally, coni|)elled 
to bring their contests before his tribunal, instead of de- 
ciding tlietn by arms. 

Saint Louis also laid under restrictions the trial by sin- 
gle combat, at least as much as the manners of the lime, 
partial to that species of decision, would permit the alter- 
ation. 

By these and other enactments. Saint Louis studied to 



OF SAINT LOUIS. 



make his people happy, while his own demeanour indi- 
cated too fully that he had at his heart the rooted feolinq 
of having sustained discomfiture and disgrace in PIgypt, 
where he had most hoped to deserve success, and to 
acquire glory. — His robes of ceremony were laid aside, 
and he seldom shared personally in the banquets which 
he provided for his courtiers and nobles. The French 
king was, for humility's sake, attended, even at meals, by 
troops of beggars, to whom he distributed provisions with 
his own royal hand. There was something of affectation 
in this ; but the principle on which he acted seems, from 
other circumstances, to have been sincere. 

His desire for the general peace of Europe, and his 
el^ort^s to appease the quarrels of the great, incurred the 
censure of some of his statesmen, who wished to persuade 
him that he would act with more policy by suffering their 
discords to augment, and even by aggravating their quar- 
rels, than by endeavouring to end them. To such advi- 
sers, Louis, in that case justly deserving the epithet of 
saint, used to reply, " they counselled .him ill ; for," ad- 
ded he, " should the neighbouring princes and great bar- 
ons perceive that I instigated wars amongst them, or at 
least that I did not labour to restore peace, they might 
vvell imagine that I acted thus either through malevolence 
or indifference, — an idea which would be sure to tempt 
them to enter into dangerous confederacies aojainst me ; 
besides that, in acting otherwise than I do, I should pro- 
voke the indignation of God, who has written in his Gos- 
pel, ' Blessed are the peace-makers, for theirs is the king- 
dom of heaven.' " In like manner, his advisers upbraided 
him that he neglected to take advantage of the weakness 
of Henry HI., to wrest from the English the considerable 
share which they still retained of the French territory in 
Gascony. On this subject, also, he defended himself, by 
proving that an honest and upright conduct was the best 
policy which a king could observe ; " he was aware," he 
said, ''that John of England had justly forfeited the 
greater part of his dommions in France ; nor did he med- 
11* 



a LOI^IS INVESTS TUNIS. 

itate the extravao;ant gonerosity of restorino; them to his 
son. On the otlier hand, he feh himself obliged to abstain 
from coveting that portion to which Henry retained a legal 
rinht throuo'h his iriandmother Eleanor. 

While thus behaving with moderation and generosity to 
his nerghbours, and even to his enemies, Louis performed 
in his own person the duty of a judge, and was often 
found, like the kings of Judah, sitting in the gates of his 
palace, to render justice indifferently to all those who 
pjesenied themselves to ask it of him. 

By his attention to the public good, as well in making 
laws as in enforcing them, the king became deservedly 
beloved, and proved effectually that no subtleties of 
worldly policy could carry an empire to such a height of 
peace and happiness, as the generous and worthy conduct 
of a prince acting upon religious and moral principles. 

With all that was so excellent in the character and con- 
duct of Saint Louis, he was subject, as we have already 
hinted, to a strain of superstition, the great vice of the 
age, which impelled him into measures that finally brought 
ruin upon himself, and severe losses upon the state. At 
the bottom of his thoughts, he still retained the insane 
hope of being more successful in a new crusade than in 
that in which he had encountered defeat and captivity 5 
and after sixteen years had been devoted to the improve 
ment and good government of his own dominions, he 
again prepared a fleet and an army to invade the territo- 
ries of a Mahometan prince. Neither Palestine nor 
Egypt was the object of this new attack. The city of 
Tunis, upon the coast of Africa, was the destined object 
of the expedition. Credulous in all concerning the holy 
war, Louis conceived that the Mahometan king of Tunis 
was willing to turn Christian, and become his ally, or vas- 
sal ; and, b}" possessing a powerful influence, through tho 
occupation of this feutile country, he hoped he sliould 
make th« conversion of this prince the means of pushir.g 
his conquests, and extending Christianity over Egypt and 
Pale^tiire also. 

h was in the year 1270, (A. D.) that he gave finally 



DEATH OF SAINT LOUIS. 



this proof that his superstition was as active and as credu- 
lous as ever. He carried with him, as before, the princes 
of his own family, and many of his principal vassals. 
The most remarkable of these, both by merit and rank, 
was Edward, Prince of Wales, who seized that opportu- 
nity to exhibit against the infidels fresh proofs of the 
courage and military conduct which he had displayed in 
in his own country during the civil conflicts called the 
Barons' Wars. He was followed by a body of select 
troops, and distincruished himself greatlv. 

This expedition, which formed the eighth, and proved 
the last crusade, was in its outset assailed by a tempest, 
by which the fleet, ill constructed to encounter storms, 
sustained great loss. In three days, however, Louis as- 
sembled the greater part of his armament before Tunis. 
Here the infidel monarch, whom he had hoped to 
convert to the Christian religion, instead of showing 
the expected docility, received him at the head of a 
strong army, with which he prepared to defend his city 
against the invaders. Louis immediately landed ; and 
the French, in their disembarkation, obtained some suc- 
cesses. These, however, were only momentary, for the 
crusaders had no sooner formed a close siege around the 
town, which was too strong to be carried save by block- 
ade, than diseases of a destructive character broke out in 
their army. The want of water and forage increased the 
progress of contagion ; and constant skirmishing with the 
enemy, for which the Moors chose the most advantageous 
positions, added the waste of the sword to that of epi- 
demic disease. The infection approached the person and 
family of tlie king ; his eldest son died of a fever ; his 
younger son, Tristan, who received birth in Damietta, 
during the miseries of his father's first crusade, now 
passed from existence amidst the ruin of liis second 
attempt. Louis himself attacked by the fever which had 
robbed him of two sons, called to his pillow, Philip, his 
eldest remaining child, and exhausted what remained of 
life and strength in giving him his parting instructions. 



B CHARLES nF ANJOU. 

On die 25th of August, 1270, (A. D.) ibis gooJ king 
died, to whose reign, one only misfortune attached, 
namely, that too little of it was spent in tlie bosom of his 
own kingdom, and in attention to its interests, which be 
understood so well. But France, so populous and pow- 
erful a nation, s])eedily recovered the loss incurred by the 
unfortunate crusades, while the effect of the wise laws 
introduced by Saint Louis, continued to influence bii 
kingdom through a long train of centuries. 

]\lean'ime, Charles, Count of Anjou, the brother of 
Saint Louis, had obtained a crown for bis own brow, 
which he had hoped to render yet more stable, bad bis 
brother succeeded in the expedition against Tunis, to whicii 
attempt he was preparing to bring him assistance. To 
understand this important point of History, it is neces- 
sary to look a little back. 

The Emperor Frederick H. bad been heir to the pre- 
tensions of the imperial house of Suabia to both the Sici- 
lies ; in other words, to those territories now belonging to 
the kingdom of Naples. But ever these kingdoms the 
Popes bad always asserted a right of homage, similar to 
that which Kin<r John surrendered to the church in Eno;- 
land. Upon the death of Frederick, these Italian and 
Sicilian dominions were usurped by his natural son, called 
IManfroy, to the prejudice of the emperor's nephew and 
lawfid heir, a youth named Conradin. Manfroy exer- 
cised with vigour the rights which be bad so boldly 
assumed. To the real dominions of Naples and Sicily, bo 
added a nominal claim over the kingdom of Jerusalem, 
though long since conquered by the Saracens. In assum- 
ing these titles, IManfroy, or Manfred, disowned all hom- 
age to the Pope ; he even invaded the territories of the 
Cliurch, when the pontiff disputed his title. Pope Ur- 
ban, who then wore the mitre, together witli Clement 
IV., his successor, who adhered to bis policy, began suc- 
cessively to use their spiritual weapons. They excom- 
niunicat3d Manfroy, and were only at a loss upon whom 
to confer ♦he kingdom of the Two Sicilies, of w hich they 



CHARLES OF ANJOU 9 

deprived Isim by the formal sentence of the churcli. This 
was a difficult question ; for, though the Popes claimed 
the privilege of conferring the right where they pleased, 
it was necessary to choose a candidate strong enough to 
cope witli I\Janlroy ; and it was not easy to select such a 
one. In tliis uncertainty, the sovereignty was offered 
first to one of Saint Louis's children, but declined by the 
good king, who could not think it consistent with morality 
to profit by a forfeiture, whicii, though declared by the 
\»oice of the Church, had not been incurred by the legal 
heir. — Conradin's right, it was clear, could not therefore 
be afiiecled by Manfred, an intruder, whose deeds could 
not prejudice the rights of his cousin. Accordingly, 
Louis declined to avail himself of the grant of the Pope 
in favour of any of his sons. The Pope next offered tlie 
kingdoms of Sicily and Jerusalem to Edmund, son of the 
King of England. But allhough this prince went so far 
as to assume the title of king, his father, Henry IIL, was 
too much embarrassed with the wars of his barons at 
home, to adu>it of his son's finally accepting a donation 
which he could not have the means of supporting. 

At length the Pope resolved to name as monarch of 
the Two Sicilies, and nominal King of Jerusalem, Charles, 
Count of Anjou, the brother of Saint Louis, a man of a 
b(jld, and even ferocious character, one who would act 
with sufficient vigour, and without embarrassing himself 
with any scruples, in defence of the right assigned him 
by the Pope. Saint Louis acquiesced in the nomination 
of his brother, though he had declined to profit by the 
^rant to his sons. And although his royal brother was 
rather passive than active in his favour, the Count of 
Anjou was able to assemble an army competent to lliC 
eniei-prise. He marched into the Neapolitan territory, 
and engaged Manfroy in a pitched battle, fought near 
Peneventum, in which the latter lost his kingdom and 
iiis lil'e. 

A competitor for the kingdoms of the Sicilies now 
arose to reclaim the crown usurped by Manfroy. This 
was Conradin, nephew of the Emperor Frederick, and 



10 PEACE CONCLUDED WITH THE SULTAN. 

ivhose legal right of succession had been usurped b)' the 
late possessor. This young prince had lillle difficulty in 
assembling a strong paily, consisting of tlie friends -of the 
imperial faction, wjiich in the beginning threatened to ex- 
tinguish the rising power of Charles of Anjou. The val- 
our, or the fortune, of the French prince was, however, 
predominant once more. Conradin was defeated by 
Charles in a great' battle, made prisoner, and, by an act 
of great injustice and cruelty, tried, and put to death upon 
a scaffold, for tlie prosecution of a claim of succession to 
which he was alike called by justice and by nature. 

(A. D. 1270.) When, therefore, the rash expedition 
of Louis against Tunis took place, Charles, now King of 
Sicily, was eager in encouraging his brother to a war in 
which he thought less of the conquest of the Holy Land, 
than of subjecting Tunis to European dependence and 
making it an appanage of his own kingdom of the Two 
Sicilies. 

When the eighth crusade had nearly come to a melan- 
choly termination, by the death of Louis and his two 
sons, Charles, King of the Sicilies, appeared before 
Tunis with a fleet loaded with provisions and re-enforce- 
ments. As the fresh troops advanced to sujiport the 
siege, the Arabs checked their ap|)roach by putting in 
motion the sands of the desert, which, driven by a vio- 
lent wind upon the strangers, prevented their attempts to 
march up to the attack of the place. Upon a second 
occasion of the same kind, however, the natives were 
leNS successful, being drawn into an ambuscade, where 
they suffered severely by the swords of the Europeans. 
The sultan began now to propose terms of submission, 
agreeing to pay a ransom to the King of the Sicilies of 
forty thousand crowns a-year — to defray the expense of 
the war — to allow the preaciiing of Christian priests, and 
the exercise of the Christian religion in his dominions, 
with some other concessions, which, excepting the pay- 
ment of the money, were-rathcr nominal than real. Not- 
vvitlistanding these favourable conditions, the French antl 
Cicilian monarchs were blamed by the voice of Christen- 



PHILIP, THE HARDY. 11 

doin — Philip for impatience, and Charles for covetous- 
ness. Of all the ])riiices in the ciusade, Edward cf 
England alone, afterwards the First of that name, and 
one of the most politic princes who ever lived, refused as 
far as he was concerned, to consent to this treaty. He 
also professed his determination to proceed to Palestine, 
where Acre, tlie last of the fortresses which owned the 
Chiistian authority, was on the j)()int of surrender to the 
infiiiels. " 1 will enter Acre," said young Edward, 
striking his breast, " though only Fouin, my groom, 
s!)ould follow me I" He went forward accordingly with 
his little band of English ; but the feats which he per- 
formed were of small note, considering the personal qual- 
ities of the prince, and his expedition is chiefly famed 
for the romantic courage of his princess Eleanor, who 
attended him. This faithful and courageous lady is said 
to have sucked the wound which her husband received 
from an envenomed weapon, and to have thus endangered 
her own life to save his. After the treaty of Tunis had 
been concluded, the kings of France and Sicily returned 
to their dominions — Philip eager to take possession of the 
crow'n which had fallen to him by inheritance, Charles 
desirous to secure and to enjoy that which he had obtain- 
ed by conquest. 

Pliilip, the third of that name, called the Hardy, 
seems to have been disposed to distinguish himself by 
enforcing the wise laws of King Louis, his father, for 
preventing private wars among his vassals. He had soon 
an opportunity to show this disposition, in pacifying a 
feud between the Count of Foix and the Lord of Cas- 
saubon. — The latter had been assaulted by the powerful 
Count, notwithstanding lie resided in the castle assigned 
him by the sovereign for his abode, and was under his 
express j)rotection. The king, at the head of his royal 
forces, besieged the castle of Foix, compelled the conn, 
to surrender, detained him a certain time in prison, and 
only dismissed him upon complete submission. The 
vigour of the government upon this occasion shows the 
permanent result of the just and firrn conduct of SairU 



12 DEATH OF Philip's wife, 

Louis. But the king's most remarkable adjentures 
occurred in his own family, and were of a very distressing 
nature. 

In his return through Italy, King Philip had the mis- 
fortune to lose liis beautiful wife, Isabel, who had not hes- 
itated to follow him to the melancholy crusade in which 
the royal family sustained so much loss. In the course 
of this journey, this lady, being then near her confine- 
ment, was thrown from her horse in crossing a river, and 
died in consequence. Isabel, thus untimely cut off, left 
four sons ; Louis, who died by poison ; Phili|), whc 
reigned after his father ; Charles of Valois, father of the 
branch from whom sprung the French kings of that house ; 
and Robert, who died young. 

After the king's return to France, the council remon- 
strated with him on the inexpediency of his remaining 
single, and he was induced to marry, as his second wife, 
Mary the daughter of Henry, tlie sixth Dui<e of Brabant. 
The life of this unfortunate princess was rendered melan- 
choly, and that of her husband disturbed, by a strange 
succession of misfortunes, in consequence of the machi- 
nations of an unworthy favourite. Mary of Brabant bore 
a son the year after her marriage, and within six years 
afterwards, two daughters ; a fair lineage, which naturally 
confirmed the love which the king bore to her, as a beau- 
tiful and affectionate woman. But jealousy and discord 
wevfi sown between them. The artificer of this mis- 
chiet was Pierre de la Brosse ; he was a person of low 
origin, and had appeared at court originally in the capac- 
ity of a barber. By this, however, we are not to infer 
tlie degree of ignorance or meanness which moderns 
annex to the word. A barber in those times received a 
medical education, and was in effect a surgeon, applying 
his skill to the cure of wounds, as well as the arrange- 
ment of the beard and hair. Still however, it was a 
menial office, and it y/as thought wonderful that such a 
man should rise to be a royal favouiite. Upon thn 
death of Saint Louis^ Philip advanced La Biosse, who 
isofms to have been a man of talent as well as art, to 



AN1> HIS SKCONt) aiARRIAGE. !3 

the rank of royal chamberlain, and employed hirn in the 
admiiiislration of some important affairs. He is said, as 
often happens with upstart favourites, to have ahused the 
king's kindness, and betrayed his trust, using his favour 
as tlie means of unjust oppression. A natural dislike 
arose between the queen, wlio thought her husband trusted 
too much to this unworthy man, and the favourite, who 
foresaw his own ruin in the predominant influence of 
the young princess. La Brosse, having once enter- 
tained this jealousy of the queen, is said to have taken 
every opportunity to prejudice Philip against her, by in- 
timating, from time to time, that his consort was actuated 
by the general dislike against Philip's children by the 
former marriage, commonly imputed to stepmothers 
The favourite caused it to be insinuated, from various 
quarters, into tlie king's private ear, that his wife often 
complained of her misfortune in bearing children wIjo 
were destined to become the vassals of those of the first 
marriage, and that siie said their case was the harder, if, 
though born when their father was upon the throne, they 
must necessarily be postponed to tlie children who came 
into the world when Philip was only a prince. 

About this time, Louis, the king's eldest son by his 
first marriage. Prince and heir of France, was seized 
suddenly by a malignant fever, which hurried him to his 
grave. The fatal disorder was attended with violent de- 
rangement in his stomach, livid spots upon his pe'rson, 
and other symptoms, which the age ascribed to poison. — 
On these suspicious circumstances. La Brosse, who had 
the court filled with his relations and dependents, spread 
rumours tending to fix the crime upon Queen Mary, 
whom he had already loaded with calumnies to the same 
effect. The queen, on the contrary, accused La Brosse 
of having himself administered the poison to the young 
prince, with the purpose of cliarging it against her. The 
king, divided betwixt fondness for his wife, and habitual 
partiality for his favourite, did not well know, betwixt 
two averments both abhorrent to his inmgination. which 
there! was ground to believe. Perhaps, in so dark a 
958 



14 ' EXECUTION OF LA BROSSE. 

transaction, we may be justified in believing that no 
crime at all was cnnimilted, and that what were consider^ 
ed as marks of j)oison, were merely symptoms of a |)utrid 
fever. — Such, however, is seldom the opinion of the 
public in any age, who are peculiarly addicted to assign 
remaikable and nefarious causes for the death of great 
persons. 

The king, in his distress and perplexity, had recourse 
to a species of explanation suited only to an ig,norant 
age. — He despatched the Bishop of Bayeux, and the 
Abbe of St. Dennis, to visit a nun, or beguine, then at 
NivelleSj who was supposed to possess the gift of dis- 
covering by inspiration the most concealed transactions. 
The royal envoys were directed to consult, of course, 
with this great authority, and to learn from her the real 
particulars of the young prince's death. Her first con- 
fession, taken from her by the Bishop of Bayeux alone, 
seemed to criminate the queen. This was thought sus- 
picious, because the Bishop was a near connexion of La 
Brosse, and interested in deciding the dispute in his rela- 
tion's favour. — But whatever his secret bias was, the 
prelate refused to bring forward a charge founded on what 
f.he nun had told him in confession. The prophetess 
herself seemed equally unwilling to speak plain. To a 
second enquiry by the Abbot of St. Dennis, after that by 
the Bishop of Bayeux, she refused to answer ; and the 
matter seemed to go against the queen. But in this un- 
certainty Philip deputed the Bishop of Dol, and Arnolph 
de Vismale, a knight Templar, who were considered as 
impartial persons, to examine the nun a second time. 
To these she frankly declared, that the king ought not 
to give any credit to such accusations as might be brought 
against his wife, since they all arose out of calumny. 

At this time, John of Brabant came to the court of 
Prance, averring the innocence of his sister, Queen Mary, 
demanding that her honour should be fully cleared, and 
offering the combat to any who should impeach it. This 
accusation hastened La Brosse's ruin, The favourite 
was accus'''d of having corresponded vith the King of 



AFFAIRS OF SICILY. 16 

CaSiile, with whom Philip of France was then at war, 
iiid, beir^g fo'-nd guilty of this crime, was sent to prison 
iiogrsced, and afterwards ignominiousl)^ executed. The 
Diike of Brabant had gained credit for the part lie had 
nitherto taken in his sister's favour ; but when the Frond) 
saw La Brosse executed without an open trial, and he- 
held the Duke of Brabant, and some lords of his party, 
attend upon the execution, with more personal feeling of 
vengeance than became their rank, the tide began to turn, 
and La Brosse was considered as having Allien a victim 
to the queen and her faction. Mary, however, long sur- 
vived her husband, and was treated with the greatest 
respect by the family of his former wife, several of whon) 
she beheld successively upon the throne. 

The affairs of England, and of Italy, were the next 
objects of importance during Philip the Hardy's reign. 

It was while this king filled the throne that the English 
began a<rain to be heard of in France, having been Ion" 
of httle consequence there, owing to the violence of their 
domestic feuds. Edward I. had long been busied in re- 
ducing his subjects of England to obedience, but, having 
perfectly succeeded, became now desirous of asserting 
his claim to such of the English territories in France as 
could yet be gathered out of the wreck of the forfeiture 
declared by Philip Augustus. For tliis purpose Edward 
resided three years in France, from June, 1286, to 
August, 1289. He rendered homage to Philip the 
Hardy, and transacted his affairs with great wisdom, hon- 
our, and success. 

The bloody wars which long deluged Europe witii 
slaughter, in order to decide the possession of Naples and 
Sicily, continued to agitate France during this reign. It 
is true, that Charles of Anjou, King of Sicily, exercised, 
by commission from the Pope, the high offices of Vicar 
of the Empire, and Senator of Rome. He was also, 
besides he'ino- the actual reignincr monarch of the Two 
Sicilies, invested with the nominal sovereignty of the 
kingdom of Jerusalem, upon the principle, it may be 
supposed, that be who had obtained the substance, should 



16 SICILIAN vespers' INSURRECTION 

also have the nominal jDossession of the shadow ; for the 
Latin kingdom of Jerusalem had ceased to exisu Not 
withstanding these dignities, Charles of Anjou did not, by 
any means-, sit secure on his throne. He had invol\ed 
himself imprudently with the Church, to wdiich he owed 
his kingdom originally. Poj)e Nicolas, who bore mucn 
ill will towards Charles, deprived him of the office of 
V^icar of the Empire, and the dignity of Roman Senator, 
in the hope, it is supposed, of provoking him to some 
act which might give the Holy See a pretence for de- 
priving him of the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, which 
she had bestowed. 

The vices of that prince were yet more hurtful to him 
than the displeasure of the Pope ; and the luxury, inso- 
lence, and cruelty, by w hich his French troops provoked 
the general resentment of the Sicilians, were still more 
fatal to his cause. A rival soon arose when his reign 
became unpopular. The imperialists still retained a strong 
party among the Sicilians. Don Pedro, King of Arragon 
— who had married the daughter of IManfroy, defeated 
and slain by Charles of Anjou — now claimed the king- 
dom of Sicily in the right of his wife, and threatened to 
reconquer it from the French. The ])assions of the in- 
habitants seconded, in an extraordinary manner, the pre- 
tensions of Don Pedro. Incensed at the liberlies which 
the French unceremoniously took with the females of 
their families, the Sicilians formed a scheme of insurrec- 
tion against these petulent and insolent strangers, equally 
remarkable for its extent, the secrecy with which it was 
carried on, and the number of Frenchmen who perisiied. 

This was the famous insurrection, known by the name 
of the Sicilian Vespers. The plot bore, that, at the toll- 
ing of the evening bell for prayers, on Easterday, A. D. 
1282, the islanders should rush suddenly upon the French 
strangers, and put them to death without exception. — 
This plot was contrived with such suiprising secrecy and 
unanimity, and executed with such general fury, tliat in 
less than two hours a general massacre had taken place, 
of all the French, whatever their age, sex, or condition. 



AND MASSACRE. 11 

Monks put to death their bretliren ; priests slew each 
other \ipon the very ahar ; lailiers killed their daughters, 
v\ho had been married to strangers, and every othernorror 
took place, which could be practised by a vindictive na- 
tion, assuming at once the trade of assassins. 

This massacre, intended to be decisive of the contro- 
versy between Anjou and Arragon, was, like many other 
great historical crimes, disappointing in its residts. The 
kingdom of France was thrilled with horror, but at the 
same time seized with a thirst of revenge for so genei'al 
and dreadful an assassination. Numbers of the best war- 
riors in that kingdom offered their services to diaries of 
Anjou, to avenge the death of their murdered country- 
men. Pedro of Ari-agon, finding his adlierents unable 
to cope with the high-famed French chivalry, was re- 
duced to evade the combat, by a device, the issue of 
which considerably hurt his reputation. In order to gel 
rid of the pressure of the French force in Sicily, and to 
avoid th'e necessity of encountering the numerous and 
excellent forces which had come to espouse the French 
cause, Pedro despatched a challenge to Charles of Anjou, 
defying him to meet him with a hundred knights, and 
decide their differences by the issue of that encounter. 
Bourdeaux, as a neutral territory, was assigned as the 
place of combat. Charles, who was by no means de- 
ficient in personal courage, immediately accepted the 
defiance, and went to the place appointed vcith his him- 
dred attendants. In this he acted imprudently, consider- 
ing that, by prosecuting the advantages he possessed, he 
niiyht have made himself master of Sicily, which was 
the object of contention ; an opportunity which was lost 
bv his departure for Bourdeaux. Neither did Pedro ever 
Uier.n actually to encounter him and his kniglits, as his 
ciiallenge implied. He indeed kept his appointinent ; 
but he appeared in disguise, and avoided the combat, at- 
leging. that, as Philij), King of France, was present in 
Bourdeaux at the time, and was lord paramount of the 
town, it was no longer an equal place of jneetuig, for a 



18 DEATH OF PHILIP THE HARDY. 

prince who came to fight vvitli that king's uncle. Ac 
cordingly, he left tlie place with little honour; fur, as 
Pliilip liad few or no soldiers along with hitn, the senes- 
chal of the king of England, who was actually connnandant 
ol" t!ie place, was sufficiently strong to have aflbrded a 
fair held of combat, both to French and Spaniards, 
But Pedro obtained his object, which was the opportu- 
nity to prosecute the war in Sicily, with a better chance 
of success than when he had Charles for an opponent. 

Charles of Anjou had left in Sicily his son, a higii- 
spirited young man, called Charles the Lame, from an 
accident which had befallen him in youth. He was 
commissioned to command as regent during his father's 
absence. This youtli, although warned by his father to 
act upon the defensive, rashly encountered the fleet of 
Arrairon, commanded by the famous Andrew Doria, the 
ally ol Don Pedro. Charles the [jame was defeated and 
taken by this celebrated mariner, and his lather, after at 
first seeming to support the calamity with firmness, gave 
way to grief, and died at sixty-six years of age. 

In the meantime, the King of France, to whom the 
Pope, according to his custom ol dealing kingdoms at 
pleasure, had assigned that of Arragon, transferable to 
any of his sons whom he should name, conveyed the 
right thus vested in him to his third son, Charles of 
Valois, and prepared, with a strong army and navy, to 
put him in possession of his new dominions. 

With this purpose, Philip the Hardy invaded Catalo- 
nia, and besieged Gerona. Pedro of Arragon came to 
its relief, with a small and flying army. Rollo of Nesle, 
Constable of France, drew the Spanish prince into an 
ambuscade, by showing only a small part of his forces. 
In this skirmish, Pedro had his face torn by the thrust 
of a lance, was nearly made prisoner, and obliged to cut 
the reigns of his horse, in order to escape the grasp of a 
French man-at-arms. He escaped from the field, but 
died in consequence of the wound, and the fever which 
ensued. This •'access was, however, overbalanced by an 
advantage obtained by Doria, who was still at sea, over 



CIIAHACTLR OF PlIiLlP lUK HARDY. 19 

the Frencli fleet Many of Philip's vessels were sunk 
and destroyed ; and as these were loaded with provisions 
for the use of the army besiei^ing Gerona, the sufferings 
of the French, arising from the loss, became so extreme, 
that it wa* impossible for them to remain longer before 
the |ilace. Tlie siege was therefore raised, and the king, 
whose hopes were thus disappointed, withdrew to Per- 
pignan, where he shortly after died of chagrin for the 
miscarriage of an undertaking which commenced so pros- 
perously. This prince, although not a man of shining 
talent, bears, nevertheless, a fair character in the French 
annals, and is saifl to have been particularly scrupulous 
in the mode of raising the revenue from his peojjle, who 
never complained of the sums exacted, as they were 
levied with so much fairness and attention to the conve- 
nience of the indigent. It is impossible now to discover 
from what circumstance Philip derived his e|)ithet of 
Hardy, as we are not aware of his having shown great 
personal courage. He disjilayed no high or distinguished 
qualities, a deficiency which was atoned for by his char- 
acter being marked by none that were wicked or dan- 
gerous. 



20 ACGF.SSION OF PII7.LIP THE FAIB. 



CHAPTER II. 

Accession oj Philip the Fair — Claim of England ii 
the Province of Xaintonge — ffar between France 
and England — Edward I. prevented by his Scottish 
Wars jrom carrying it on icith vi^ovr — Confederacy 
of Continental J^rinces against F/iitip, instigated by 
Kdwa"d — Peace and mutual Alliance betiveen France 
and. England — Fhilip^s (Quarrel ivith Pope Boniface 
— his good, understanding with the ttvo succeeding 
Popes, who fix their Residence at Jlvignon — Contest 
ivith Flanders — Dissolution of the Order of Knights 
of the Temple — Death of Philip the Fair, and Ac- 
■ cession of Louis liutin — Execution of JMarrigny, 
the Favourite of the deceased. JMonarch, for alleged 
Kndiczzletnent and Sorcery — JMarriage and Death 
oJ Ijouis liutin — Accession of Philip the Eong, by 
virtue of the Salic Law, which excluded, his JViece. 
the Princess Joan, daughter of Louis liutin — Mas- 
sacre of Jews and Lepers, in coiisequeuce of a sus- 
picion that they had caused an Epidemic Disease 
throughout France, by poisoning the M'ells — Death 
of Philip, and. Accession of his Brother, Charles the 
l\iir — Charles summons Edicard 11. to do Damage 
for his French Possessions — Investiture granted to 
the Prince of Wales, instead of his Father — In ■ 
trigues of Edward's (^ueen, Isabel, at the French 
Court — Death of Charles the Fair, icith ivhom be- 
came extinct -the Descendants in the First Line of 
Hugo Capet. 

Philip IV., who succeeded his (atlier, was surnamcd 
Le Pel, or the Fair, from the beauty of his countenance, 
and the majesty of liis person. He was married to Joan, 
who was Queen of Navarre, as well as Countess of Cham- 
pagne and Brie. 



PHILIP INVADES GASCONY. 21 

riiis prince's entrance on life looic place at great dis- 
advantage. His father had left an exliausted exchequer, 
and a ruinous and unsuccessful war undertaken witii Spain 
to vuidicate the rights of his nephew, son of his sisiei 
Blanche, Queen of Castile, and to conquer the kingdom 
of Arragon, for Charles of Valois. Edward 1. too, was 
now beginning to bestir himself in France, and perplexed 
the French king by a demand of the territory of Xain- 
tonge, a district adjacent to the English possessions in 
Guienne. In this important matter, Philip, after exam- 
ining the ancient treaties between the kingdoms, saw the 
necessity of acquiescing, and Edward became a party to 
a negotiation by which the quarrel with Castile was in 
some degree accommodated, and the peace of Europe in 
a great measure restored. 

But in consequence of an accidental quarrel between 
a Norman and a Gascon sailor, which led to a battle be- 
twixt their two vessels; that moderation which the young 
King of France had hitherto exhibited, seemed to be ex- 
changed for hasty resentment, and a determination to 
proceed to extremities. 

Upon this accidental provocation, and in resentment 
of the injury offered to his flag, the King of France issued 
a summons, commanding Edward, as a ])eer of France, 
to appear before the French parliament, under pain of 
forfeiting his fiefs in that kingdom. Edward, though 
ofiended at such peremptory conduct, was desirous to 
avoid a lupture. He offered, with exemplary temperance, 
to yield to the French six castles which he held in Gui- 
enne, by way of security that he would submit to make 
amends, should he be found ultimately in the wrong, and 
also as pledges that he would meet with the King of 
France, and discuss their difference in an amicable con- 
ference. At the same time, Edward stipulated that the 
sunnnons, a proceeding offensive to his dignity, should be 
withdrawn. Philip having solemnly agreed to this ar- 
rangement, broke through it nevertheless, in a faithless 
manner. He took possession of the six fortresses, but 
only made use of them to facilitate he conquest of the 
12 4th See. 



22 EDWARD I'S. SCOTTISH WARS. 

English province of Gascony, for which pirpose be 
marched an army under the High Constable into that 
territory. A French fleet and flying army was even 
employed to attack the coasts of England, by which Dover 
was burnt and Kent invaded. 

Notwithstanding these provocations, which were not to 
be endured by a monarch of Edward's temper, tlie King 
of England was extremely unwilling to engage in a war 
with France at this moment. He had been anxiously 
employed during the last years of the thirteenth century, 
in the unjust attempt to possess himself of the sovereignty 
of Scotland ; in which he seemed often almost successful, 
but could never become completely so. Indeed, divided 
and dispirited as the kingdom then was, notliing was 
more easy than to overpower the Scots in the field ; and 
yet such was the obstinacy of their resistance, that within 
a month or two after their subjugation appeared to be 
complete, the natives of this pertinacious country were 
again in arms. It would well have suited the policy of 
Edw'ard to have postponed all other wars, until he had 
completed the conquest of Scotland, and for this purpose 
he was loath to accept of the various provocations which 
France seemed studiously to offer to him. Nevertheless, 
as King of England, he could not, without dishonour, 
submit 'to the affront of being summoned before the 
French Parliament, and he was also nettled at the un- 
worthy manner in which he had been cheated in the 
matter of Guienne, and at the loss he had sustained in 
that province. He therefore returned an answer of defi- 
ance to the King of France, and he sent a small army, 
under his brother Edmund, to protract the war in France, 
at as little risk as might be, while he himself marched 
into Scotland, to finish his conquest of that country. 

It may be here remarked, first, That the grievances 
which Edward 1. inflicted on Scotland, and by which he 
hoped to compel the people to rebellion, r,o as to form 
an excuse for confiscating and depriving of his kingdom, 
•John Baliol, a monarch of his own creating, were very 
closely allied to the indignities which he himself expe> 



SCOTTISH LEAGUE. '23 

rlenced from the King of France, and to which he was 
personally so sensitive. Therefore the monarch, who 
exercised the same feudal tyranny towards others, his 
own dependents, could not with justice complain of simi- 
lar usage from his own lord paramount. 

To understand this, you must remember, that, by un- 
fairly availing himself of the trust reposed in him by the 
Scots, W'ho chose him to be umpire for deciding the suc- 
cession to their crown, Edward I. had assumed to himself, 
on very iniquitous grounds, the right and dignity of lord 
paran^ount of Scotland. Invested thus, though by no 
fair means, with the right of supremacy over that king- 
dom, Edward's next step was to summon John Baliol, 
the shadow whom he had set up as king, to attend and 
answer the complaints of the most insignificant persons 
who chose to bring an appeal from his decisions to the 
English courts of law in Westminster. Edward's object 
in this injurious conduct, was undoubtedly to mortify the 
pride of the Scots and of their King, and to seek an op- 
portunity of declaring, as he afterwards did, that the 
kingdom of Scotland was forfeited to himself. 

Now, this was exactly, though in a less flagrant degree, 
the conduct of the king of France towards Edward him- 
self, when he summoned him to attend before a court of 
French peers, and give satisfaction for a brawl which had 
taken place between a Gascon and a Norman vessel. It 
is no wonder, therefore, that Edward rather chose to stille 
the debate, by the surrender of the six forts in Guienne, 
than to fix the attention of the world upon the very dif- 
ferent manner in which he judged of such treatment, when 
applied to himself, compared with that in winch he chose 
to consider it, when used by him towards the King of 
Scotland. 

It is also worthy of observation, that although the Scot- 
tish historians, in their zeal for their national antiquity, 
have pretended that a league existed between a Scottish 
king, whom tljey call Achaius, and the Emperor Charle- 
magne, as early as the year 779, and even affirm that the 
emperor bestowed upon the northern pri ice a tr«iss«ire 



24 CONFEDERACY OF CONTINENTAL 

of neurs-cle-lis, as an augmentation of arms, i: is yet easy 
to tlenionstrate tliat there were no armorial beari-ngs till 
many centuries after Charlemagne, and that the intiniatfi 
league between France and Scotland did not exist, until 
th.e circumstances of both countries recommended mu- 
tual supijort and good understanding betwixt them, as a 
matter alike politic aiid necessary. We shall hereafter 
see that the Scottish alliance was of considerably more 
importance to France, than that of France was to Scot- 
land, it was certainly renewed during the reign of Philip 
tlie Fair. 

To return to tlie general subject. Edward I. was in- 
duced to trust to some future favourable oj)portunity the 
prosecution of his revenge against France, into which he 
did not think it politic, or find it possible, to lead a large 
army, while embarrassed with the Scottish campaigns. 
In the month of August, 1297, however, it seemed tc 
liim that Scotland was so effectually pacified, as to per- 
mit a great effort for the chastisement of France. For 
this object, Edward trusted less to his own forces, though 
lie transported to Flanders a gallant army of English, 
than to a general confederacy which he formed with sev- 
eral princes, on the same plan with the alliance so ab- 
rupdy dissolved by Philip Augustus at the battle of Bou- 
vines. The allies, too, were nearly the same persons, 
being the Emperor of Germany, the Dukes of Austria 
and Rrabant, the Earl of Flanders, and other German 
and Flemish princes, who engaged, for considerable sums 
of money to be paid by the King of England, to assemble 
a combined army for the invasion of France. 

Philip, who beheld himself threatened by a formidable 
confederacy, contrived to break up tiie alliance by the 
I'HStribution of large sums among its members. Against 
Guy de la Dam|)ierre alone, the aged Earl of Flanders, 
tlial kiiig retained an embittered and vindictive spirit, and 
when the other princes had, in a great mearsure, been in- 
duced to abandon the confederacy by intrigues and gratu- 
ities, Philip moved against that prince with a predominant 
forcR. At the same time, he put in motion the numerous 



PRINCES AGAINST PHILIP. Xt 

Aialecontents wlioiii lie bad found in the great towns of 
Flanders, the inhabitants of which were extremely niu- 
tinoLis, and disposed to insurrection. By the accumulated 
wei:.5ht of foreign invasion and (Jomestic insui-rection, the 
earl was likely to be totally ruined, had not Kdwaid of 
England moved to his assistance with a fleet and army, 
;uid saved him from the revenge of France. 

No battle of consequence, however, ensued. Edward 
was disgusted with the great expense which he had be- 
stowed, to no purpose, upon his German confederates ; 
and Philip, who had encountered more difficulties than 
he had expected in liis campaign in Flanders, was also 
desirous of acconnnodation. A nuitual iViend to both 
nionarchs offered his services as mediator. This was 
Charles, King of Sicily, called Charles the Ijame. He 
was cousin german to tlie' King of France, being son of 
his uncle, Charles of Anjou. To Edward he was bound 
by an important obligation, Cluuies had been taken, as 
we have said, by Andrew Doria, in a naval engagement, 
in which the Arragon party were victorious. The victors 
manifested a strong inclination to put the captive prince 
to death, in their desire to revenge tiie execution of Con- 
rade II. by his father. 

But Edward 1. who entertained a persona] friendship 
for this pi'ince, prevailed upon his captors to ransom him, 
and furnished tlie greater part of the money which was 
demanded upon the occasion. Thus was Charles the 
Lame well suited for a mediator between France and 
England, in which he made considerable progress, al- 
thougii the office was afterwards transferred to the reign- 
ing Pope, whose feelings towards France were not of 
the most amicable character. 

Boniface was at this time at the head of the church, 
and he had. some considerable time before, entered into 
a ouarrel with Philip the Fair, respecting various extrav- 
agant claims vvhich the Pope had preferred over the 
French kir.g and his territories. 

Tiic particulars of this feud between the most Chris- 



26 PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 

tian King and the Cluircli, is too long and too confused 
to be entered into in this place ; but it terminated in an 
unusual manner, considering how successful the Churcii 
had hitherto been in its irio«t extravagant demands. The 
Pope was admitted as mediator, instead of the King of 
Sicily, and discharged his duty as umpire with considera- 
ble fairness. Notwithstanding whicl), the two kings tooli 
the wise resolution of settling their ditlerences by a lie- 
finiiive treaty; because, from the grasping temper of Boni- 
face, he was the object of suspicion to them both. Mat- 
ters were accordingly brought to a settlement. (A. D. 
1.307.) Edward made his homage for Gascony, and 
France and England entered into a mutual alliance against 
atiy one who sliould disturb the one king or the other in 
their rights, franchises and freedoms, by which agreement, 
the jirobabiiity of a quarrel with their mediator the Pope 
was intimated. 

Jioniface resumed his attacks against Philip. He at- 
tempted to fix upon him a certain Pernard Laiseli, for 
whom, without the king's consent, he had created a bish- 
opric. He sent this man to Philip in the character of 
a legate, who, in requital, turned him out of his domin- 
ions. The Pope next convened a council at Rome, at 
which several of the French clergy attended. Matters 
were thus brought to extremity. In a word, Boniface 
had already made jiublic his determination to excommu- 
nicate the King of France, and indeed the bull was ready 
prepared for that purpose. Among other extreme meas- 
ures to avert this sentence, Philip sent into Italy two 
determined agents, who, having levied a strong body of 
partisans, seized upon the person of the Pope, then 
residing at his native town in Tuscany, insulted, even 
buffeted him, and had very near slain him, liad not his 
Holiness, after two or three days' confinement, been reS' 
rued by a party of the people, and conveyed in safety to 
Rome. 

Here the disgrace which he had undergone had such 
an effect upon his spirits, that he died furiously mad, after 
having failed in extending the authority of the Church, in 



POPE BONIFACE. 2*? 

tlie way he meditated, and after having been obliged ta 
submit to the encroachments, as he termed tliem, of the 
secular j)o\ver. Tims died a Pontiff, of uhoni it is said, 
that he entered the clinrch Hke a fox, ruled it I'ke a lion, 
dud died like a dog. 

King Philip the Fair, after having been thus freed of 
his bitter op|)onent, Pope Boniface took especial care to 
esiablisli a close and powerful interest with the two suc- 
ceeding popes, and endeavouied, indeed, by every means 
in his power, to cultivate the favour of the papal see, 
and even to prevail on these supreme Pontitls to shift 
theii residence from Italy to France, in which he so far 
prevailed, as to induce them to reside at Avignon. In 
this manner did Philip obtain absolution from the sentence 
of excommunication pronoimced by Boniface, and re- 
establish a friendly intercourse with the head of the 
church. 

This king was also engaged in a violent contest with 
the peoi)le of Flanders, which fief he was bent upon re- 
uniting with the French empire. This was partly owing 
to his unabated hatred to his old vassal in that fief, Pierre 
de la Dampierrs, whom he })ressed so hard, that the count 
was under the necessity of submitting to his mercy. 

I>at although the French ,<:ained great successes, and 
obtained possession of many towns in Flanders, they did 
not fail to drive the Flemings, as they had done the Si- 
cilians, into rebellion against their new rulers, and great 
part of that populous nation, although at first favourable 
to the invaders, was soon in insurrection against them. — ■ 
Three sons of Count Pierre de la Dampierre put them- 
selves at the head of the insurL''ents. They fought a great 
battle with the French, in which the I'lemings were in 
the beginning successful. King Philip escaped with dif- 
ficulty from the fury of the first attack, in which the ene- 
my penetrated to his tent; but the fidelity of the French 
chiva ry, who rallied at the cry of the king being in dan- 
ger, lestored t'.e battle, and the Flemings were finally 
defeated with prodigious slaughter. Notwithstanding the 
br'lliancy of this victory, Philip was only disposed to re 



28 DISSOLLTTION OF THE ORDER 

pjard It as a foundation for peace. The young princes of 
Flanders were still at the head of a nun)erouSj -though 
undisciplined army, and it might have been hazardous to 
drive to desperation so formidable an enemy. Tlie eldesi 
of the sons of Count Pierre was then admitted to do 
homage for the county of Inlanders, and, on condition of 
paying a considerable sum, estabHshed his peace with the 
king. 

In 1310, there occurred an important historical trans- 
action, respecting which it is difficult to form a candid 
judgment. 1 have told you that there existed two great 
fraternities of military monks, both of wdiich were form- 
ed in the Holy Lan(i. Tiie one had for its object the 
defence of the Tem])le ; the other was associated as 
Knights Hos[)iiallers, or Knigiils of St. John ; and both 
held out as their principal object the defence of Palestine 
ngainst the infidels, IJoth these communities, but in a 
particular degree the Tem))lars, fell under [)ublic obloquy, 
on account of the immense wealth which was acquired 
by the order, and the lax morals of individual members. 
To drink like a Templar, became a common phrase ; and 
their public licentiousness, as well as the charges imputed 
to them of considering less the benefit of Christians in 
general, and the defence of Palestine and of Jerusalem, 
than the aggrandizement of their own institution, were the 
general sulyects of clamour against them. The associa- 
tion of the Temple, however, was destined to fall under 
darker and blacker accusations than affected the morals 
of individual knights, or the ambition of the order in 
general. 

While these knights were the universal object of envy 
to the nobles, on account of their wealth, and odium to 
the poor, on account of their license, a singular incident 
orouglit their fate to a crisis. Two brcthrer. of the oi'der 
of the Tem]>le had been condemned by their Grand j\las- 
cer, or President, to perpetual impi'isonment. These 
criminals, desperate at this rigorous sentence, intimated, 
that if released from imprisonment, they could disclose 
to the French government circumstances concerning their 



OF KNIGHTS OF THE TEMPPfc. 29 

order ol a mysterious and highly criminal nature, l^hese 
inen being examined accordingly, declared, before per- 
sons authorized to take their evitlence, that the secret 
rules of the order of the Temple were entirely contrary 
lo the Christian religion, as well as to decency and mo- 
rality. This extraordinary accusation bore that the Tem- 
plars commenced their initiation by the most blaspliemous 
and disgusting professions, and by ceremonies so infamous 
in character, that human nature cannot readily allow ihe 
possibility of their being adopted by an association con 
sisting of men of rank, engaged ostensibly in a religious 
fraternity. One hundred and forty knights were arrested 
at once within the kingdom of France, and great part of 
them seem to have confessed chai'ges similar to those 
averred by the knights who lodged the original accusa- 
tion. To these confessions, considering when and how 
they were obtained, we can attach little credit, as we 
know that .solitude and torture have made accused indi- 
viduals confess (as in charges of witchcraft) things not 
only improbable, but altogether impossible. 

But besides the above consideration, a very considera- 
ble number of those imprisoned Templars averred th.eir 
iimocence firmly. They said, that their confessing breth- 
ren had been seduced to their admissions by the promise 
of life aiuj liberty ; and they themseives denied strongly 
whatever charges were brought against them of an atro- 
cious character. " W'e are but men," they said, " and 
have our failings as such ; but, to be guilty of the wick- 
edness imputed to us, we must be incarnate fiends." 

The Pope himself held a coimcil on this very dubi- 
ous affair, in which the dissolution of the order was finally 
resolved upon all over Europe, although it was only in 
France that the Templars sufTered condemnation ano 
punishinent. Fifty or sixty of them were put to death, 
maintaining their innocence with their last breath, and 
citing their persecutors to answer before God for the cru- 
eities unjustly exercised upon them. Jaques de Molai, 
Grand Master of the order, with two of its other principal 
957 



30 PHILIP THE FAIR, UNPOPULAR. 

officers, were bro-ight before the King of France and 
the Pope, and examined on the several points- of the 
charge. At fust, they admitted some part of the accu- 
sation against them, and denied others ; upon which par- 
tial confession they were condemned to be burnt to death 
by a slow fire. VVheii brought to execution, after re- 
iractitig what they had formerly uttered, they declared, 
like the rest who were executed, that they had individ- 
ually committed sins incident to mortals, but that their 
order had never been stained by any such iniquities as 
liad been alleged against them. 

Indeed, when we consider the whole of this extraordi- 
nary charge, and recollect that the Templars, as an order, 
were extremely rich, that they had fallen into public odi- 
um, and had shown themselves unequal to the defence of 
the Temple, for which purpose they were associated, it 
may be suspected that we see, in these circumstances 
alone, the grand causes of their destruction, and that tlie 
other gross accusations preferred against them, if not en- 
tirely fiilse, were at least framed upon the crimes of some 
individuals only. 

The procedure against this celebrated society, added 
considerably to the odium with which the latter days of 
Philip the Fair w^re overclouded. His Flemish wars 
had exhausted his revenues, and vexed his people with 
extraordinary impositions. His dissensions vvitli Pope 
Boniface, the violence which he authorized towards that 
Pope, above all the exactions which he made upon the 
cler(i;y, caused him to be held in horror by all strict 
Catholics. — The ruin of the Templars was imputed to 
his avarice and injustice. While he was thus loaded with 
unpojii'larity from different causes, a domestic affront 
seem', to have affected him deeply. 

Philip's three sons were all married to princesses of 
suitable birth ; but the morals of the whole were so 
doubtful, tliat each of the three princes accused his wife 
of adultery, Joan, wife of Philip, Count of Poitou,the 
second of the royal brethren, was the only one of the 
fiiree princesses acquitted of the charge. iVlargaret, wife 



DEATH OF PHILIP THE FAIR. ?\ 

of Louis the eldest, and Blanche, wedded to the young- 
est, of the sons of Plil''p, were found guilty, and con- 
demned to perpetual confinement in the fortress of Chaslel 
GaiUard. — Two kniglits, the partners of their criu"!es, were 
put to clea'J) with horrible tortures. 

Tliis shameful incident, and the disgrace which attend- 
ed it, sunk deep into the heart of Philip tlie Fair. The 
king, at the same time, saw that the public dissatisfaction 
would render it difficuh, or impossible, to raise funds 
for reviving the war m Flanders, upon which he was de- 
termined, assigning for a reason, that he had never receiv- 
ed the money which the young count engaged to pay on 
the conclusion of the former peace. The count, on the 
contrary, alleged he had paid the subsidies regularly to 
the king's favourite courtier, naaied Enguerraud de Mar- 
rigny. The terrors, therefore, of a war for which no 
funds could be provided, and which was particularly un- 
popular in France, added to the king's embarrassment. 
His spirit sunk beneath such a load of evils and disgrace ; 
he took to bed without any formal complaint, and died of 
the cruel disease which carried off some of his prede- 
cessors, viz. a deep melancholy. On his death-bed, the 
dying monarch expressed great apprehension lest the 
imposts which he had laid upon his people should be the 
cause of his suffering punishment in the next world, and 
conjured his children to diminish or discharge them — a 
late act of penitence, to which much credit is not rashly 
to be given. 

Philip the Fair left behind three sons, Louis, Philip, 
and Charles, each of whom mounted the throne in their 
turn, but all died without issue. Of two daughters of the 
same king, one died unmarried, the other, Isabel, was 
wedded to Edwai'd, Prince of Wales, son to Edward I., 
who afterwards reigned as Edward IL It was upon the 
extinction of the male Heirs of Philip the Fair, that the 
kings of England laid claim to the inheritance of France, 
in contradiction to the Salic law, and in right of this 
same Isabel's succession to her father. 

Louis X whom, for some uncertain reason, the French 



.>^ LOUIS HUT.'^ 

- called Hutin, (or the Mutinous,) next ascended the throne. 
The first point he had to consider was tlie bringing to ac- 
count the favourite of the deceased monarch, Enguerraud 
de Marrigny, who had been tlie agent of Philip's exac- 
tions, and was supposed to have peculated enormously, 
35 the money passed through his hands. Called before 
the princes of the blood, and closely interrogated by the 
brotlier of the late king, Ciiarles, Count of Valois, m 
particular, 'vho, in fact, governed in the name of ln& 
nephew, the accused party answered with great insolence. 

'•' Where,' said the Count de Valois, " are the trea- 
sures of the late king ?" 

" You shall have a good account of them," answered 
the prisoner, haughtily. 

" Give it me, then, on the spot," answered the 
prince. 

" Since you press me to speak," replied Marrigny, " I 
have given you one half of the treasure of the late king; 
your brother, and with the other half, 1 have paid his 
aiajesty's debts." 

" You lie,*' replied the prince, in a rage. 

" You lie, yourself," replied Marrigny. 

In consequence of this intemperate and insulting con- 
duct, the fallen favourite was arrested, thrown into prison, 
and brought to trial, when he was charged with embezzle- 
ment of the royal revenue, and with the abuse of his late 
master's favour. The new king was present at this trial, 
and looked on the accused with more compassion than 
his uncle and brothers showed towards him. — As the 
princes of the blood perceived the king's intention to 
screen Marrigny, at least from a capital sentence, they 
mixed up with the other crimes of which he was accus- 
ed, a charge that his wife had trafficked with a sorcerer, 
and an old woman, deemed a witch, for the purpose of 
mgking waxen images resembling the king and princes, 
which, being dissolved at a slow fire, the strength and 
substance of those they represented were expected to de- 
cay in proportion. The king, believing in a practice 
which was at that time an object of general credulity, 



LOUIS rutin's marriage. 33 

was startled at the accusation, gave up Marrigny to tl]e 
vengeance ol* Iiis uncle the Count de \alois, and the un- 
fortunate favourite was hanged accordingly. 

The sorcerer and the witch were also put to death, and 
the wife of iMarrigny was conder^i ^ed to perpetual nn- 
prisonment. It was much doubted whether tlia crimes 
of Marrigny deserved quite so severe a fate ; and it is 
certain tiial the aggravation which induced llie king to 
consent to his death, was entirely visionary 

Charles, Comit of Valois, himself repented of the 
persevering cruelty with which he liad pressed the con- 
viction of this person ; and wiien he was struck with a fit 
of the palsy, imputed tb,e infliction to the vengeance ot 
Heaven for Marrigny's death. On his death-bed, he be- 
queatlied considerable sums to purchase the prayers of 
the church for the pardon of JMarrigny's sins, as well as 
his own. 

In the meantime, Louis Hutin arranged a marriage for 
hiroself with dementia, or Clemence, daugiiter of Charles 
Martel, King of Hungary, w-hoin lie selected, to replace 
the criminal and unfortunate Margaret, imprisoned in 
Chaste! Gaillard, as w-e have already seen. The exist- 
ence of tiiis hist unfortunate lady was, however, still an 
obstacle to her husband's contracting a second union. — 
I.iOuis Hutin removed it by an act of violence.' The un- 
fortunate Margaret was sii'angled with the sheets of jier 
bed, that her husljand might be at liberty to wed Clem- 
ence of Hungary, a match which took [)lace immerliately 
on her execution, or murdei-, (A. D. 1315.) — for'so 
a vengeance so long deferred, might be most justl)" 
termed. 

Tiio king and qncen were crowned at Rheims, when 
it was with difFicuIty that, by the assistance of the wealth 
found in the collers of Marrigny, and confiscated to the 
stale, tlie necessary expenses of the coronation were 
defrayed. 

T!ie new-married couple had not passed many months 
logeilier, when they were disturbed by the voice of war. 
The same Count Robert of Flanders, who had been so 



34 L»EATn OF LOUIS HUTIN. 

troublesome to Philip the Fair, was still in insurrection, 
and it was necessary to go to war with him, alihauuii the 
public finances were in bad order, and totally inadequate 
to the services of the slate. The kint^ also felt all those 
inconveniences which crowd upon a sovereiij;n when his 
exchequer is exhausted. VV.!ic]i he demanded supplies, 
his subjects took the opportunity of insistini; upon their 
privileijes, real and prelendeii. The young king was 
much embarrassed, but he was not destined long to remain 
so. He died in 1316, (A. D.) the year after his mar- 
riage, and the first of his reign. Tlie fate of the king- 
dom remained suspended until time should show whether 
a son or a daughter should be the produce of the confine- 
ment of Clementia, his queen, which event was expected 
m four months after tiie death of Louis. 

Philip of Poitou, the second brother of the deceased 
monarch, was unquestionably entitled to be declared re- 
gent, being, in fact, the next heir to the crown, if the 
queen should not be delivered of a surviving son. Nev- 
ertheless, Charles of Valois, uncle to Louis Hutin, made 
an attempt to supersede his nejihew, but the Parliament 
afljudged the regency to Philip, who came speedily to 
Paris, and assumed the office of guardian of the young 
prince and regent of the kingdom, while awaiting the 
event of the queen's confinement. 

This took place November 14, 1316, (A. D.,) when 
Clemence was delivered of a boy, who did not survive 
above eight days, injured, as .was thought, by the excess 
of his mother's sorrow for tlie husband of whom she hud 
been so suddenly and prematurely deprived. 

Philip, the hrolher of Louis Hiuin, therefore, was trans- 
formed from regent into kinix, and was consecrated the 
twelfth day after his nephew's death. It was not, how- 
ever, without opposition, of which it is necessary to ex- 
plain the cause, as it concerns a remarkable point of 
French history. 

You cannot have forgotten that the tribes, of which the 
Frank, or French nation, consisted, had their principal 
lerritories upon the Rliine and the Saale. From *he lat- 



THE SALIC LAW. B5 

ter tribe, comes the term of the Salic law, an enactment 
i.urrent amonii; tlie early tribes who dwelt on that river. — 
However entensive in its original sense, the Salic law has 
long denoted that rule of inlieritance which excludes a 
fenmle, or any other person whose connexion with the 
blood royal cannot be traced without the intervention of a 
female link, from the possiblity of succeeding to the crown 
of France, 'n any case. This law is understood to have 
ap])lied to the Merovingian and Carlovingian, and Cape- 
tian dynasties. The dignity of king, said the French 
jurists, with all the assumption of masculine arrogance, 
Was of too much dignity to ^ass either to, by, or through, 
the distaff. The exclusion, whether reasonable or other- 
wise, was strictly observed in the early ages of the mou» 
irchy. 

From the accession of Hugo Capet, in 9S7, to the death 
of the infant and posthumous son of Louis Hutin, in 1316 
the crown had regularly descended from father to son ; 
thirteen generations having successively possessed it du- 
ring the space of three hundred and twenty-nine years, 
without a single instance of collateral succession. The 
Salic law, therefore, had, during this long period, remain- 
ed, as it is termed, in abeyance, there having occurred no 
opportunity of putting it in force. It seems, therefore, to 
have been partly forgotten, since the Duke of Burgundy, 
and the Count of Valois, with a considerable party, were 
disposed to dispute the claim which Philip V., called, 
from his statue, the Long, made to the crown. These 
princes contended, that, since the late king, Louis Hutin, 
had left behind him a daughter, Joan, she must be con- 
sidered as the heir of her short-lived brother ; an axiom 
which, if allowed, closed the succession against Philip the 
Long. 

. This important matter was referred to the States-Gen- 
eral, who, having maturely considered so important a 
question, finally decreed, that the Salic law and custom, 
inviolably observed in the French nation, excluded fe- 
males from the throne ; and the right of Philip was uni- 
versally acknowledged accordingly, in preference to thai 



36 THE PASTORACX. 

of the Princess Joan. The new sovereign extended his 
influence among the nobility, by bestowing among them, 
in marriage, four daughteis, to whom he gave consider- 
able appanages, and thereby attached them to his 
interest. One of the persons whose friendship he ac- 
quired in this manner, was Louis of Flanders, whose 
family had given so much trouble to Philip the Fair, 
and had threatened the short reign of Louis Hutin. 
This might be accounted a considei-able stroke of state 
policy, as the young Louis was next heir to the reign- 
ing count, his grandfather, who was an aged man. 
Philip the Long also renewed the league with Scotland, 
and transacted his affairs upon equal terms with Ed- 
ward II. of England, who was his brother-in-law. 

But, though prudent and politic upon the whole, King 
Philip the Long, in one particular, gave great dissatis- 
faction to his people, viz., in the eagerness which he 
showed to collect large sums of revenue, and his haste 
to restore the obnoxious imposts which had been discon- 
tinued by his predecessor. It must be allowed that this 
was neither from a disposition to extravagance nor to 
avarice, either of which it might be supposed to have 
indicated. But, like his great ancestor, Saint Louis, 
Philip the Long unhappily conceived himself bound to 
undertake a crusade so soon as ever opportunity should 
permit ; and it was with this view that he made a great 
collection of treasure, in the hope of removing some of 
the obstacles which had proved so fatal to his ancestors, 
who meditated the same project. 

A wild inclination towards these perilous expeditions 
seemed at this time to pervade all Europe. The common 
people of France, in particular, were stirred up by igno- 
rant friars and enthusiasts, who pretended to have discov- 
ered by inspiration that it was the divine will to rescue 
Palestine from the infidels, not by means of the great and 
powerful of the world, but by shepherds and peasants. — • 
This doctrine becoming general, bands of the most low 
and ignorant persons enrolled themselves under various 
leaders, and traversed the country under the nanne of 



HAIRED TOWARDS THE JEWS. 37 

Pastoraux. They were not long tlius embodied withou* 
discoverinLj tiiere was business to do in bebalf of Chris- 
tianity, without going" so far as the Holy Land. 

The Jews, wlio had been persecuted and banished from 
France by Phihj) the Fair, and restored by his successor, 
as necessary to the existence of the state, once again be- 
came the objects of popular hatred, not only on account 
of their religion, and because their wealth rendered then.i 
the ready oiijects of plunder, but also from a new accu- 
sation, wliich so ignorant an age alone would have listen- 
ed to. A pestilential or epidemn, disease was at this time 
scourging France, where bad bving and dearth of provis- 
ions rendered such infectious disorders very fatal. To 
account for the present pestilence, it was said that the 
Jews had accepted a bribe from the IMahometan princes, 
and had undertaken to poison all wells, fountains, and 
rivers. The charge of participation in this crime was ex- 
tended to a set of unfortunate wretches, who were rather 
the objects of disgust than of compassion. Those afflict- 
ed with the leprosy, who were obliged to live in hospitals 
apart from the rest of mankind, were stated to have join- 
ed with the Jews in the iniquitous project of poisoning 
the waters of the kingdom. It was an accusation easily 
understood, and greedily swallowed, by the vulgar. The 
populace of course, being already in arms, turned them 
against the Jews and the lepers, considering both as a • 
species of wretched outcasts, whose sufferings ought to 
interest no healtliy Christian. 

Without any formality, or trial, or otherwise, these 
ignorant fanatics seized upon great nund)ers both of the 
Jews and of the lepers, and tore them to pieces, or burnt 
then) alive without scruple. 

T!ie Jews, though of late years they may be consider- 
ed as an unwarlike people, have always been remarkable 
lor the obstinacy of their temper, and for their opposing 
to popular fury a power of endurance which has often 
struck even their oppressors with horror. Five hundred 
of these men, u[)on the present occasion, defended a cas- 



38 DEATH OF PHILIP THE LONG. 

tie into which they had thrown themselves, with stonejj, 
arrows, javehns, and other missiles, till, having no- other 
weapons left, they launched the persons of tlieir living 
children from the walls on the heads of their assailants, 
and finally put each other to the sword, rather than die 
by the hands of the multitude. 

At Vitri, also, fifty Jews distinguished themselves by 
a similar act of horrible despair. They chose with com- 
posure two of their number, a young woman and an old 
man, who received the charge to put the rest of their 
company to death. Those intrusted with the execution 
of this fearful duty, executed their instructions without 
dispute or resistance on the part of the sufferers. When 
the others were all slain, the old man next received his 
death at the hand of the female, and to close the tragedy, 
this last either fell or threw herself from the walls of the 
place ; but having broken her thigh bone in the fall, she 
was plunged by the besiegers alive into the fire which 
consumed the dead bodies. 

The king himself was obliged to submit to the popular 
prejudice. He once more banished the Jews, and by a 
proclamation confined the lepers to their respective lios- 
pitals, under the penalty of being burnt alive. The royal 
troops were next em])loyed with success in putting down 
the Pastoraux, and other tumultuous assemblies of fanati- 
cal banditti, and restoring the peace oi the kingdom. 

Sliortly after. King Philip the Long died, after a reign 
of five years, in 1321, (A. D.) As was frequently the case 
on the demise of great persons in that age, his death was 
strongly suspected of being caused by poison. He was, 
upon the whole, a well-meaning king ; and the love of 
money which he had at first testified, was atoned for by 
an edict, near the close of his reign, dispensing with the 
imposts upon the people, and by a meritorious oltem[it to 
reduce the coins, and the weights and measures, through- 
out all F"'rance, to some uniform standard, a matter of 
groat importance to commercial intercourse. 

I^hilip llie fxjng was succeeded by his brother, Charles 
the Fair ; Ma21, A. D.) The Salic law having its full 



REIGN OF CH ARIES THE FAIR. 39 

force in bis behalf as heir-mals, and Iiis rigbt I'eing wl 
flitted, to the exclusion of tbe daugbters of the deceaseU 
Philip tlie Long, and, in particular, liie Duchess of Bur- 
gundy, who was the eldest of tiiese princesses. Charles 
tlje Fair, being thus placed on tbe throne, became desir- 
ous to get rid of his wife Blanche, who remained still a 
prisoner, on accoant of ber infidelity. 

He did not on this occasion proceed to tbe extremities 
adopted by bis eldest brother, Louis Hulin, who, in sin> 
i!ar circumstances, bad the fi'ail and unfortunate Margaret 
strangled, but contented himself with obtaining a sentence 
of divorce from Rome, upon tlie old pretence that 
Blanche and be were related within tbe forbidden de- 
grees. The supposed connexion was even more flimsy 
than usual, being only of a spiritual natiu'e, the motlier 
of Blanche, having, it seems, been godmother to the king. 
It was better, however, to be divorced as tbe daughter 
of ber husband's godmother, than to be strangled with a 
pair of sheets. The discarded princess covered ber dis- 
grace by taking the veil in the Abbey of Alaubuisson. 

In room of this lady, Charles espoused Margaret, 
daughter of Henry of Luxembourg, seventh Emj)eror of 
Germany of that name. But no good fortune attended 
tbe marriages of this race ; Queen Margaret was killed 
by the overturn of ber chariot, an accident which proved 
fatal to ber and to an unborn male infant. 

As bis third wife, Charles tbe Fair married witb dispen- 
sation a cousin of his own, who survived him many years, 
but produced no family save daughters. 

Charles the Fair began bis reign by two remarkable 
punishments. Among tbe other chiefs of independent 
armed companies who were the pest of France, one 
Jourdain de Lisle was brought to bis deserved sentence, 
and capitally executed, although a nei)bew of the reisining 
Pope. Besides having committed mmxler, and ra|)inc of 
every description, not even sparing tbe churches, he had 
put to death a pursuivant of the king, baving the royal 
arms about bis neck, wbicb was considered as an act of 
hiffb-troajon. He dashed out the brains of this man with 



40 AFFAIRS OF ENGLAND. 

his own mace, for daring to serve a royal writ upon hi'-o. 
All intercession was in vain employed for so notorious a 
miscreant, who incurred his deserved fate upon the gib- 
bet. The prosecution against Gerard de, la Guette was 
of a more ordinary character. He had been a low-born 
officer of finance, raised to the dignity of treasurer by- 
Philip the Long, and, as usual stood accused of having 
failed to render to the new king a fair account o( the 
sums intrusted to him by the old one. He was arrested, 
but escaped the fate of Marrigny by dying in prison. 

The afFaiis of England, which now became ratlier per- 
plexed, npx4 attracted Charles's anxious attention. There 
had been for a long lime a friendly understanding betwixt 
the courts of England and France ; but in 1322, (A. D.) 
some disturbances occurred in Guienne, which made 
Charles the Fair in more peremptory terms than usual 
demand that the King of England shcndd appear and 
render homage for the possessions he still occupied in 
France. 

This was an inconvenient summons to Edward IT., a 
weak and unfortunate prince, who, having been complete- 
ly defeated by the Scottish, had, moreover, been much 
thwarted by the English barons, who put to death Gavcs- 
ton, his favourite, and had reduced the king himself to a 
very low ebl). Latterly, having been successful against 
the insurgent barons, the king had selected for his minion 
Hugh Spencer, an ambitious and profligate young man, 
who now ruled the king with absolute sway. Isabella, 
the queen of Edward II., was, as a French princess, and 
sister of the reigning monarch of that country, judged 
the fittest agent to represent Edward at the court of 
France, since her husband himself was afraid to visit that 
kingdom, and his favourite Spencer was stjll more unwil- 
ling that his master should take such a journey. It is 
said, besides, that Edward, v;ho did not love his wife, 
was desirous to be rid of the restraint on his pleasures 
imposed by her presence in England. But he ana his 
advisers Aiiled to observe, that Isabella, finding herself 
exclude'! fioin her husband's affections, had contricti-'ri a 



DEATH OF CHARLES THE FAIR. 4' 

contempt for him which amounted to hatred. There Is 
also too iiuicli reason to believe that the same exasperated 
piiiicess had already become attached criminally to Roger 
Mortimer, afterwards well known as her paramour. He 
had escaped from tlie Tower of London some time before ; 
and, as he was now residing in France, it was intprudent, 
to say the least, to send the queen, wliere their corres- 
pondence might be easily renewed or continued. 

Edward, however, looking no farther than his imme- 
diate convenience, permitted, or rather enjoined, his wife 
to go to France, to negotiate between her brother and 
her husband. But the personal presence of Edward him- 
oelf was still required by the King of France, as a condi- 
tion of the restoration of Guienne. Again Isabella inter- 
posed her mediation, and procured the consent of the 
Fiench king, that if Edward, Prince of Wales, afterwards 
Edward ill., would perlbrni the homage, investiture of 
those territories should be granted to liim, without de- 
manding his father's personal presence. This was regu- 
larly transacted in the course of a few days. But tlie 
unfoitunate Edward II. was not aware that his queen had 
only gone abroad with the purpose of returning at the 
head of an army, by which he was afterwards dethroned, 
imprisoned, and murdered. 

Isabella had already commenced her intrigues to that 
effect, which did not escape the notice of the French 
court, it does not indeed appear that Charles the Fail 
connived at the conspiracy of his sister against her hus- 
band, though it is alleged that she received the advice of 
Robert of Artois, by which she left the court of Paris 
for that of iiainault, where she arranged a marriage ibr 
her son with Philijipa, the daughter of the count, and 
obtained the military supplies with which she afterwards 
invaded England. 

Charles the Fair was now beginning to feel the same 
infirm health which had carried off his brethren. He 
finally died at Bois de Vincennes, and the descendants of 
Huge Capet were extinct In the first line by the death of 



4ii ACCESSION OF PHILIP. 

the last male heir of Philip the Fair. (A. D. 1327.) Jt 
was remarked, that at the death of the last-named jjiince, 
there existed three sons at man's estate, so that, according 
to all human pros])ects, the succession to the crown 
seemed amply provided for ; yet it pleased God in so 
short a space as lourteen years that they should all be 
carried off by death, without any of them leaving male 
issue. — The only chance of an heir-male of this branch 
coming into existence, was, that the Queen-dowager Jo- 
anna, third wife of Charles the Fair, might perhaps be 
delivered of a son. Her orphan, however, proved to be 
a daugliter, which, opening the succession to Philip of 
Valois, the next heir-male of the House of Capet, gave 
rise to the contlicling claims of the Kings of England and 
France, and to the dreadful war which ravaged the two 
ki/igdoiiiij, but especially tliat of France. 



EDWARD III. OF ENGLAND. 4«1 



CHAPTER III. 

Homage paid hij Edward II f. to Philip of Fiantz tn 
the Cathedral of Jlntiens — Kdivard subdues Scotland, 
and resolves to assert his Claim (in right of his 
Mother) to the Crown of France, to which covrse he 
is incited by Robert of Jlrtois, the exiled Minister of 
Philip — Edward obtains the consent of his Parlia- 
ment for an Invasion oj France, and sets sail — J\''aval 
Engagement at the entrance of the Harbour of Slvyse, 
in which the English are victorious — Siege of Saint 
Omers — the Besiegers dispersed by a sally of the De- 
fenders — Siege of Pournay — a Truce for one year 
concluded, and Edivard returns to England — Pro- 
lonixation of the I'rucc — Dispute concerning the Svc- 
cession to the Dukedom <f Brctagne — The French 
Kin<f espouses the part of Charles of Blois, xcho had 
been dispossessed of the Duchy by John de JSlontfort 
— De JSlontfort taken, and imprisoned. — the masculine. 
Courage of his Countess — she holds out Hennebon 
against Charles of Blois and his Ftench Jluxiliarics 
— English Succours, under Sir IV alter Manny, throivn 
into the Town, by ichose gallantry the Siege is raised 
— Prosecution of the War — Hennebon again be- 
sieged, and. the Siege again raised — a Truce con- 
cluded — Renewal of the War — Edward liimself takes 
the Field, and is opposed by John, the son of Philip 
— Truce concluded — A new Rupture between the 
Kinits of France and England — Campaign under 
the Earl of Derby — Siege of Jluberoche laised by the 
gallantry of Sir Walter Manny — Military Tactics 
at this period — Feudal Chivalry — Free Companions 
• — English Bows and Bills — Italian Cross-bowmen — 
French Infantry — Mercenaries. 

Although llie states of France had formerly recog- 
nised the acces?ion of King Phihp, yet Edward HI., the 



44 EDWARD 111. OF ENGLAND. 

yniing King of England, was far from acquiescing in a 
decision which had llie effect of depriving him of 8 suc- 
cession, wliich, in every other kingdom hut France, would 
have made iiim unquestioned heir to his maternal uncle, 
Charles tlie Fair. 

Edward was young, brave, ambitious, full of talent, 
and at the head of a mighty nation. Yet, even in early 
youth, he was capable of listening to prudent counsel ; 
and, sensible that, considering the revolutions which Eng- 
land had lately undergone, — considering his own bond- 
age, as it might be termed, under the guardianship of his 
mother and her favourite, Mortimer, — considering also, 
the unfinimity of France under the present king, this was 
not a time to propose a claim so important, and which 
must be followed by inevitable war. His decision was 
hurried by a summons from the King of France, that he 
should appear and do homage for the dukedom of Aqui- 
taine, the denial of which requisition must have insianily 
been followed by a declaration of foifeiture, wliicb Ed- 
ward was as yet in no condition to dispute. He therefore 
resolved to submit to the summons for the present. But 
to avoid the inference,. that, by rendering this homage for 
his F'rench possessions, he acknowledged tlie right of 
Philip of Valois as King of France, King Edward, in his 
own secret council, entered a solemn protest, that such 
hon'age as he should at this time pay to Philip, should 
not prejudice his own hereditary right to the kingdom of 
France, in virtue of his mother, Isaliella. Under this 
private protestation, Edward went to France with a noble 
train of knights and peers, where Philip met him with 
an attendance and retinue suited to the occasion, to re- 
ceive the homage which the other came to ])ay. It may 
be well supposed, that every ceremony applicable to the 
rendering of such fealty, was nicely disputed between 
such auirust personages. The meeting of the sovereigns 
was in the cathedral of Amiens. The Englisli King ap- 
peared clad in a robe of crimson velvet, embroidered with 
leopards of gold. He wore a royal crown on !iis head, 
was girt with his sword, and had his golden spurs buckled 



H0MA3E PERFORMEI) BY EDWARD III. 45 

upon his heels. The King of France received him. 
seated in a chair, Lefore which a cushion was laid for the 
King of England to kneel upon. As lie refused that act 
of humiliation, the Grand Chamherlain of France insisted, 
not only that that posture should be adopted, but thattlie 
King of England should lay aside the regal orn.unents, 
and that tlie homage should be rendered by him kneel- 
ing, bare-headed, without sword and girdle, and without 
spurs. Edward was extremely angry at being compelled 
to divest himself, in such an assembly, of the usual 
murks of his rank. He was, however, obliged to do so; 
and it is probable his hatred to Philip of Valois was greatly 
increased by his being subjected to this public affront. 

This un pleasing ceremony being performed, and the 
English possessions in France so far secuied, Edward 
returned to England, where he dispossessed his mother 
and her lover, Mortimer, of tiie administration, and took 
the command of tlie kingdom into his own hand. 

This revolution effected, the young king, perceiving 
Scotland deprived by death of her heroic deliverer, Rob- 
ert Bruce, and of his great captains, Randolph, Douglas, 
and others, thought the time opportune for renewing his 
grandfather's and father's attempts upon the liberty of 
that nation. With this purpose, he invaded that country 
— first, by means of the Disinherited Barons, as the Eng- 
lish lords were called, (lords, that is, who had lost estates 
in Scotland, granted to them by Edward I. and II.,) and 
afterwards by his own royal armies — and soon reduced 
the Scottish to nearly the same state; of reluctant subjec- 
tion which they experienced in the time of his grandfatlier 
Edward I. 

As, however, the natives of the north continued lo 
show the same indomitable opposition to the English 
yoke ; as the young king and queen of that nation had 
found refuge in France, when there was no corner of 
safety left for them in their own counuy ; as French 
money and even French troops, were sent at dilTerent 
times to keep up the spirit of tjie Scottish msurgenls, 
Edward, now, in nearly complete possession of the island 
958 



16 HIS SCOTTISH WARS. 

of Britain, began to meditate the assertic^n of his own 
claim of inheritance upon Fiance, that he might so put 
an end at once, and for ever, to the troublesome inter- 
ference of that powerful nation, in his Scottish wars. 

To this resolution the King of England was urged by 
(he counsels of a hot-tempered and disapj)ointed man, 
\v!io fled about this time from the court of France to that 
of F^ngland. This was no other than Robert, Count of 
Artois, a high prince of the blood, and an especial G0(]n- 
seller, till this period, of Philip of Valois. This noble- 
man was grandson to a Robert Count of Artois, slain at 
the battle of Courtray, after having had a son, named 
Piiilip, who died before him. The slaughtered Count 
left a daughter named Matilda, besides this Robert of 
Artois, son of Philip, who was entitled, as male heir, to 
the succession of his grandfather. But Matilda, the 
daughter of the elder Coiuit Robert, being married to 
Otho of Burgundy, and two daughters whom she had by 
that marriage, being married to two sons of Philip the 
Fair, that king of France adjudged the county of Artois 
to the heir female, which was confirmed by a judgment 
of Philip the Long. In this decision the Salic Law was 
set aside, it being alleged that the peculiar customs of 
inheritance, observed from time immemorial in Artois, did 
not permit its application. 

By tliese judgments, Robert of Artois, the grandson, 
conceived himself highly injured, and began to employ 
his political sagacity in the way which he thought most 
likely to favour his own interest in the county of Artois. 
Jn the debate concerning the succession, upon the death 
of Charles the Fair, Robert of Artois declared zealously 
for the party of Philip of Valois, both because Philip's 
right, being that. of an heir male, favoured his own claim 
upon the coimty of Artois, and because he was himself 
brother-in-law and friend of the claimant. 

Philip, who was greatly indebted to this prince lor 
smoothing his access to the crown, by his important ser- 
vices ard eloquent representations, received him into bis 
highest lavour. presented him with the earldom of Beau- 



PHILIP OP VALOIS. 41 

tnont le Roger, and consulted him in almost al importaiii 
business which he had to transact, until Robert, tlius dis- 
tinguished, began to think the period was favourable foi 
again trying the question respecting the succession of his 
grandfather, no longer indeed with his aunt JMatilda, who 
was dead, but with her successors. After obtaining, 
therefore, many marks of the king's favour and co.ifi- 
dence, he was so secure of his interest, as to propose to 
Pliilip of Valois, to review and alter the decisions of his 
predecessors, Philip the Fair and Philip the Long, which 
took from Robert the county of Artois. The king eluded 
his minister's request, by replying, that he had no power 
to. disturb the decisions of his predecessors, and that Rob- 
ert ought to remain satisfied with such possessions as he 
had obtained from the kindness of the king. This re-, 
fusal drove D'Artois to still more unlawful expedients, 
to obtain the end on which he had determined. He 
forged, or caused to be forged, a testament of his grand- 
father, settling the county of Artois in his favour, and 
produced it to the king, as a document affording sufficient 
room for reviewing and recalling the judgments of which 
he complained. Philip of Valois, looking upon the deed 
produced, of which he instantly recognised the false- 
hood, sternly exhorted his minister to desist from a pur- 
suit so unjust, and to beware how he prejudiced his own 
honour, and insulted his sovereign, by claiming faith foi 
forged deeds. Robert of Artois replied with fury, thai 
he would support the truth of the testament with his 
lance in tlie lists, against whosoever impugned it. Tlie 
king, highly offended at a defiance in which he thought 
his own person was included, answered sternly, " I will 
impugn it, and will know how to punish the fabricator.'' 

The king and his minister parted in great displeasure 
on both sides, and Robert of Artois was heard to drop 
these dangerous words : — " He who placed the crown upon 
Philip's hepd, knows how to deprive him of it again." 

This imprudent speech being reported to Pnilip, he 
published a sentence against his late minister, condemn- 
ing him for forgery ; declaring him fallea from .lis hon- 



48 ROBERT OF ARTOIS; 

ours, banishing him from France, and pronouncing bis 
property confiscated. At theisame time, a feinalaof the 
house of Betune was burnt ahve, as the actual forger ol 
the testament in question, and as guiUy also of sorcery. 
By this usage, in wh ch, perliaps, the king, in forgetting 
former services, followed the dictates of offended dignity 
Airther than prudence would have counselled, Robert ol 
Artois was driven to despair. Philip's displeasure even 
extended to the exile's wife, whom he imprisoned, al- 
though she was his own sister ; and he showed similar 
rancour, by interfering to prevent Robert from fiiiding 
refuge in Brabant, where his friends were prohibited from 
protecting him, under pain of the King of France's ven- 
geance. This inflexible severity drove the exiled state 5- 
man to seek refuge with Edward, who was Philip's most 
formidable enemy, both from situation, and recollection 
of the scene of homage which he had been constrained 
to perform at Amiens. 

In the year 1337, (A. D.) Robert of Artois fled to 
England in disguise, and being a near relation of Ed- 
ward, received there welcome and protection ; and, from 
his character for policy, speedily found the road to tlie 
king's ear. He employed his influence, which soon be- 
came great, to persuade Edward of the practicability of 
asserting his title to the crown of France in right of his 
mother. Edward, flattered by the prospects displayed 
by so sagacious a counsellor, resolved upon a war with 
France, founded on the sweeping and geneial assertion, 
that he himself was the lawful heir of that kingdom, in 
despite of the Salic law on which Philip reposed his 

Availing himself of the wealth wdiich his subjects 
readily put at their king's command, in a point where 
their sense of national glory was so strongly interested, 
Edward commenced, at very great expense, to form a 
ionfederacy with the Emperor, Louis of ]?avaria, the 
Dukes of Brabant and Guelders, the Archbishop of Co- 
logne, aod other petty princes of the Low Country, for 



CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 49 

the formation of an army which sliould support the title 
which he intended to assume as King of France. For 
the levying and keeping on foot this army, he engaged 
to jiay large siihsidies to the princes of the confedeiacy. 

Edward III., however, experienced what has heen since 
often fek, that it is easier for Enghmd, hy her wealth, to 
md'ice continental powers to take up arms in her hehalf, 
liraii to inspire them with vigour and spirit in an enier- 
pi'ise, to which money aione had induced them to accede. 
Philip took the field, with an army of one hundred thou- 
sand men, to face this gath.ering storm, but cautiously 
avoided a combat, in which a defeat might have cost him 
his throne ; and the allied princes trimmed, shuffled, pro- 
crastinated, and delayed assembling their forces, till the 
summer passed away without any remarkable event. In 
the spring, 1340, (A. D.) Edward returned to hold his 
parliament, which was called chiefly for the purpose of 
requiring new subsidies from his subjects, having exhaust- 
ed those formerly granted among his allies to little pur- 
pose. His parliament were, however, complaisant , and, 
having settled his affairs at home, the king resolved to re- 
turn to the continent, although the French fleet, amount- 
ing to four hundred sail, with forty thousand men on 
board, who had been already troublesome to the English 
coasts and commerce, was prepared, by their master's 
Older, to intercept Edward upon the sea. 

These vessels were hired from the republic of Genoa, 
and maimed with mariners from that state. On 22d Jime, 
1340, (A. D.) the King of England set sail witii two 
hundred and sixty vessels well manned with archers and 
men-at-arms. Other vessels conveyed English ladies and 
gentlewomen, who went over to pay their respects tc 
the queen, whom Edward had left behind him in Flanders 
as a i)Iedge of his retiu'n. When the English approached 
the harbour of Shiyse, which they had fixed for disem- 
barkation, they beheld it occupied by so many vessels^ 
that their masts and streamers seemed like a great wood. 
The king demanded of the master of his vessel, " what 
he conceived this navv to be." — " They are," answered 



50 EDWARo's NAVAL TICTORT. 

the master, " ships fitted out by the French king to 
despoil your Majesty's coasts, and interrupt your com- 
merce. They have ah-eady done you, in tliis way, much 
harm ; and now, i(' they may, it is their object to take 
your person." — " Ha !'' said the king, " 1 have long 
desired to meet them, and now I will make them dearly 
abye the displeasures they have done me." Acting as 
admiral in person, tlie king commanded his fleet to cas:: 
anchor for the night. 

On the next morning, having arranged the vessels bear- 
ing the ladies at such a distance that they might see tiie 
conflict without danger, Edward, with his ships of war, 
held a course in moving towards the fight which was cal- 
culated to gain the wind of the enemy, in which manceu- 
vre he succeeded. ' This conduct also seemed to the 
Fi-ench to evince timidity on the part of Edward, and 
induced them to leave the harbour to attack the English 
fleet, — another object which the King of England had in 
view. The battle commenced at ten in the morning, and 
lasted nine long hours, during which the Genoese sailors, 
by whou) the French ships were manned, plied the Eng- 
lish with their cross-bows, to which the English replied 
with tlie long-bow, a much more effective weapon, and 
which had been a favourite in England ever since the 
Norman Coiujuest. When the missiles on each side were 
expended, the ships approached close to each other, and 
grapi)led or secured themselves to their opponents by 
means of iron chains or hooks, by which the contending 
vessels were held together. The men-at-arms on both 
sides thus fought on the decks hand to hand, with their 
swords and axes, as if on shore. The English, animated 
by the presence and example of Edward, obtained at 
length, at'ter a bloody battle, a most complete victory, the 
first distinguished naval success of England, which has 
yinco gained so many. In consequence of which, the 
whole French navy being taken, dispersed, or destroyed, 
Kino; Edward achieved his landino; with all jilorv and 
victory ; and the splendour of his conquest induced his 
lilies to show an activity which they bad not yet mani' 



Howard's campaign in fl nders. 51 

fested. T!ie king, in conjunction with them, fomieil the 
siege of Tournay, a strung town, which was varuinti} 
delended by the assistance of a Trench garrison. 

At this time the country of Fhu)ders was divided be- 
twixt two factions. The earl of that country adiiered 
faithfully to King Philip, whose vassal he was, and was 
followed by the nobles and gentry. But the towns of 
Flanders were at all times inhabited by a mutinous body 
of citizens, manufacturers, and the like, who were not 
disposed to submit to the earl or his nobility, and were 
often en^raired in actual rebellion against bin), and in in- 
siirrection against his dependent nobles. A brewer, of 
the name of D'Arteville, had raised hin)self to the rank 
of a j)rincipal demagogue among these artisans, and, 
holding a close intercourse with Edward 111., was of 
course hostile to the French party, which had been em- 
braced by the earl. 

An army of these insurgent Flemings, amounlinii in 
number to forty thousand men, with the auxiliary aid of 
five thousand English archers, took the field under "Robert 
of Ariois, who, acting as the commander of this second 
and somewhat tumultuary army, laid siege to Saint 
Omers, while the more regular part of the allied troops 
besieged Tournay. Saint Omers, however, was well de- 
fended ; and in an attack upon the suburbs of the place, 
the besieged made a strong sally upon the Flemings while 
in disorder, slew about three or four thousand men, antl 
impressed upon the rest a panic terror, which manifested 
itself in an extraordinary way, that very night. About 
midnight, there fell upon the undisciplined besiegers a 
strange consternation, and groundless fear, which impelled 
them to cut down their tents and pavilions, and fly from 
before the place. Their leaders in vain endea\oured tc 
argue \^ith them, asking, " Why they fled ? whom they 
feared ?" and such like questions, to which the Flemings 
made no answer, but dispersed themselves in confusion, 
never again to be assembled as an army. 

One part of King t^dward's plan for the campaign was 
thus frustrated by a singular accident ; nor was the siege 



52 Edward's campaign in flanders. 

at Tonrnay more successful, thougli it was more regu- 
larly conducted, and more lioiiourablv raised, than thai 
of Saint Oniers. King Edward maintained the siege of 
the former place for r.ine weeks and upwards, still hoping 
that he might be able to comi)el Philip, who lay with 
a royal army within three or four leagues of the place, to 
hazard a battle for its relief. 

In this, however, he failed. In consequence of which 
disappointment, and scarcely knowing in what way to 
bring the war to a decision, Edward despatched a per- 
sonal challenge, defying King Philip to let the controversy 
be decided either by the kings themselves in single figiit, 
or by a hundred champions on each side. Philip had too 
much wisdom to accej)t of tliis defiance. He returned 
for answer tliat a king accepted not a challenge from a 
vassal, and upbraided Edward with being perjured after 
the oath which he had taken when he paid hirn homage 
at Amiens. 

The German and Dutch confederates of England were 
again becoming weary of the war, which was marked by 
so little good fortune ; and, what may be considered as a 
simultaneous occurrence, Edward's power of continuing 
the subsidies to these venal allies was gradually dimin- 
ishing. 

When matters were in this critical posture before Tour- 
nay, the Pope and his cardinals uri^ed strongly the neces- 
sity of peace* betwixt the two Christian monarchs, the 
most powerftd in Europe, in order that they might engage 
in a joint effort against the infidels. This gave an apology, 
at least, to Edward's pride, for entering into terms. 
Robert, King of Sicily, was equally anxious in the same 
cause of mediation ; but especially the Lady Jane of 
Valois, Countess Dowager of Hainault, mother-in-law to 
the King of England, and sister to Philip of France, did 
her utmost, by affectionate remonstrances and judicious 
arguments, to prevail upon the contending monarchs to 
negotiate for a truce. This was concluded in September, 
1343, (A. D.,} to continue far one year, and affording, 



TRUCE BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND. 53 

it was supposed, sufficient leisure for adjusting a definitive 
peace. 

Edward ret irned to England in very bad humour, de- 
serted by his mercenary confederates, and convinced that 
he himself was mistaken in supposing lie could conquer 
France by the aid of princes, who, one by one, (tiie em- 
peror hiuiself not excepted,) made peace with his enemy 
when the treasures of England failed. On the other 
hand, notwithstanding his loss in the great sea action, 
Philip of France carried away all the advantages of the 
campaign. He had saved Tournay from ruin, and oblig- 
ed tlie King of England, who had threatened to dethrone 
him, to reti-eat from his dominions, without having been 
able to gain so much as a single village of France, and 
was, therefore, undoubtedly in every sense, possessed of 
the effective fruits of victory. 

The truce, of course, terminated the war for the pres- 
ent ; but still the ground of mortal quarrel remained be- 
twix^the two countries, rankled deep in each, and af- 
forded a ready pretence for either nation, when they 
should again clioose to take up arms. Neitlier could a 
more solid peace between the crowns be now achieved, 
although Edward required nothing more than a release 
for the payment of homage for Gascony ; a condition 
greatly short of his original high pretensions. Thetiuce, 
therefore, was prolonged for another year, as the only 
way of avoiding the revival of a war which endangered 
Christendom. Thus stood matters, when an unexpect- 
ed event took place, which revived Edward's hopes 
of obtaining possession of the crown of France, much 
abated as they had been by the event of the late unsat- 
isfactory canjpaigns. Tliis was a dispute concerning the 
succession of the Duke of Breta^ne, which originated as 
follows. 

Ar liur, the second duke, had, by his first v;ife, three 

sons, John, Guy, and Peter ; by his second wife he left 

one son, named .John de Montfort, being the title of his 

mather's fimily. At his death, Duke Arthur was suc- 

13* 



3ti DISPUTE CONCERNING BRETAGNE. 

ceeHed by his eldest son, John III. This prince died 
30th April, 1341, without issue; Guy, the second son 
of Duke Arthur, had been dead about ten years before, 
leaving one daughter, Jane, who, by desire of her uncle, 
was married to Cliarles de Blois, nephew to the king of 
France. During Duke Arthur's lifetime and reign, Peter, 
ihe third son of that prince, had died young and childless, 
while the aforesaid Jolin de Montfort, son of Arthur, by 
liis second wife, was still alive. Thus standing the suc- 
cession, Duke John 111. had prevailed upon the States of 
Bretagne to recognise the right of his niece, Jane, and h6r 
husband, Charles de Blois, as his presumptive heir and 
successor in the duchy, in preference to John de Montfort', 
who was unquestionably the heir-male, and had, as such, 
a considerable party among the Bretons. This expression 
of the duke's will met no direct opposition. But, upon 
the death of Duke John, the Earl de Montfort determined 
to dispute the destination in which he had hitherto acqui- 
esced. He entered into a close correspondence with 
Edward HI., and easily prevailed upon him to forward 
his pretensions to the dukedom of Bretagne, agreeing, 
at the same time, to assert those of Edward to the king- 
dom of France. De IMontfort seized on the treasure of 
the deceased duke, gained possession of Nantes, and sev- 
eral other towns of Bretagne, and made every effort to 
support his claim. To draw his connexion with England 
still closer, he visited that country, made a formal alliance 
with its sovereign, and did homage to Edward as King of 
France, for the dukedom of Bretagne. 

These proceedings gave great and natural offence to 
ihe King of France, who, upon the complaint of Charles 
nf Blois, summoned De Montfort to appear before his 
F*arliament of Paris. The earl somew-hat incautiously 
obeyed the summons ; but, finding himself charged with 
the feudal offence of having acknowledged Edward as his 
superior, and commanded to remain in the city of Paris 
.Qir fifteen days, he began to be alarmed, and returned 
privately into Bretagne, before the French king knew of 
his departure. 



IMPRISONMENT OV DE MONTFORT 03 

The Parliament of Paris proceededj in the ahsence of 
the Count de Monlfort, to adjudge the duchy to Cliarlcs 
of Blois and his wife, as legal heirs to the deceased fiuke, 
adding, at the same lime, that De iMcnifort, even had he 
ever possessed an interest in the fief, l-ad forfeited it, hoth 
by doing homage to the King of England, and hy breach 
of ills arrest, contrary to King Philip's orders. 

The King of France, at the same time, commanded his 
eldest son, the Didie of Normandy, to assist Charles of 
Blois in regaining possession of those towns in Bretagne 
which De Monlfort had taken and garrisoned. A vigo- 
rous attack was instantly made for the recovery of Bre- 
tagne, and Charles de Blois, by the assistance of a French 
army, in which a distinguished warrior, called Louis de 
la Cerda, more commonly Louis of Spain, acting as mar- 
shal of the host, had the good fortune to retake the cap- 
ital of Nantes, in which Earl Montfort himself was made 
prisoner. He was sent to Paris, and imprisoned in the 
Louvre, where he long remained, entirely lost to his 
party. In most cases, therefore, the war would have 
been at an end ere it was well begun ; and the scheme 
of Edward to obtain access to France, by the way of 
Bretagne, must have been totally frustrated. This was. 
however, prevented, by the masculine courage of the 
Countess Jane de JVlontfort, w-ife of the imprisoned earl, 
and sister to the Earl of Flanders. 

This lady, who, says Froissart, " had the courage of a 
man and the heart of a lion," being in the city of Rennes 
when her lord w^as taken, scorned to yield to the grief 
with which that event oppressed her; but assembling her 
friends, presented to them her young son, John, as suc- 
cessor to his rights, who, by the grace of God, should be 
the means of restoring his father unto his family and 
friends. She undertook also to pay the soldiers regularly, 
and inspired a spirit of resistance into her party which 
might have been supposed to have been utterly extin 
guished by her husband's misfortune. 

Notwithstanding the resistance of the countess, Rennc!- 
was yielded to Charles de Blois and there seemed little 



56 SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 

chance of any efiectual stand being made, till she tlirevV 
herself into Hennebon, a strong town in Hietagpe, sit- 
uated on the seashore, in which she was accompanied by 
the flower of her partisans, and where she prepared for a 
gallant defence. She herself wore armour, and rode 
tiirough the streets on a mettled charger, exhoiting (he 
citizens to resistance. Her women were not excepted 
^from martial labour, for she caused them to cut short their 
gowns, that they n)ight be moi-e active, and carry stones 
and other missiles to the walls to make good the defence. 

The French having attempted to carry the town, by a 
general assault upon one side, the countess made a sally 
on the other, and set fire to the Frenchmen's camp, while 
they were engaged in the assault ; and upon this and 
other occasions, did great damage to the besiegers. Not- 
withstanding this, and the valour and niilitary skill which 
she dis))layed in nsaking good the defence, the town suf- 
fered sevei'ely in the progress of the siege. The walls 
were so much shattered by the engines, that the Bishop 
of Leon, who visited the place in |)erson, as a friend of 
Charles of Blois, pressed the conductors of the defence 
very much to come to terms with the besiegers. His 
arguments, and the desperate condition of (he place made 
considerable imjiression upon several of its defenders. 
The valiant countess now became alarmed for the defec- 
tion of her followers, and piteously entreated them to 
Iiold out, were it but for the space of thr(;e days only, 
during which time she asserted she was certain that the 
city would be relieved. Nevertheless, on the second day, 
the Breton lords of her party again met in council with 
the Bishop of Leon, adjusting terms for the capitula- 
tion of Hennebon ; and Charles of Blois, who was with 
the besiegers in person, had approached the walls with a 
strong party, to he in readiness to take possession of the 
jilace. 

At this critical moment, the valiant Countess, in a state 
well-nigh approaching to despair, cast an almost hopeless 
glance upon the sea from a lofty window of the castle, 
when, what was her joy to discover the horizon covered 



SIEGE OF HENNEBON RAISED. Ot 

with llic masts of a large navy, steering towards Henne- 
Don. She exclaimed joyfiilly, "The Red ('ross I the 
lied Cross ! the sui cours of England are in sigiil !" 

The Breton lords speedily changed their ])ur|)ose of 
surrender and dismissed the Bishop of L^eon, lo whom 
».hey weie formerly disposed to listen, while Chai'les of 
Blois, incensed at liis disappointment, approached to the 
walls the greatest engine the besiegers had in their camp. 
The English, who had been forty days delayed on the 
sea by contrary winds, now landed at Hennebon. They 
formed a small army, commanded by Sir Walter Manny, 
a Flemish lord in tiie service of King Edward, and one of 
the most renowned warriors of that period. The very 
next day after his arrival, lie expressed his wish to come 
to action. " 1 have a great desire," he said, " to issue 
from the town and to break down yonder great engine, 
which they have brought so near us." The Breton lords 
within the place gladly assented. They burst forth from 
llie gates, broke the engine to pieces, and pursued those 
who guarded it to the camp of the besiegers. The host 
of the French now began to get under arms, to protect 
t!ie fugitives ; and Sir Walter, seeing their main body 
advancing, turned against them, with the chivalrous |)ro- 
testation, " May 1 never be beloved of my lady, if I 
refuse to break a lance with these pursuers !" He turned 
accordingly, and many a knight was unhorsed, and deed 
of arms done. With equal prudence as valour. Sir Wal- 
ter Manny, after a gallant skirmish, di'ew off his forces 
imcler cover of the ditc^hes, which were lined with Eng- 
lis!i archers, and returned to Hennebon, where the 
Countess of Mont fort, as we are informed by the chroni- 
cle, kissed him and his brave companions twice or thrice, 
like a valiant lady. The siege of Hennebon was accord- 
ingly raised. (A. D. 134-2./ 

Many skirmishes were fouirht, in which the English 
courage and the e\C(' lence of tluiir archers, gained an as- 
cendency, which was exceedingly mortifying to Charles 
de Blois, and to DoQ Louis of Spain, who acted as mar- 
shal ol his armv. 



58 HENNEBON AGAIN BESIEGED. 

The latter was a noneral of great courage and conduct, 
but nevertheless was tinged witli the vindictive and crueJ 
temper which was supposed peculiar to the Spanish nation. 
Moving along the coast of J3retagne with a strong force of 
Si)aniards and Genoese, he destroyed a seaport town 
called Guerande, where he spared neither man, woman, 
nor child. Taking shipping at this place, Don Louis 
readied Quimperle, anoiiier haven, where he landed, and, 
burning, sacking, and destroying the whole surrounding 
country, collected a great spoil. But wliile he was thus 
engaged. Sir Walter Manny, who had put to sea in pur- 
suit of him, arrived at Quimperle, wiili three thousand 
English archers, and a sufficient number of men-at-arms. 
The English instantly seized upon the French ships and 
booty, which remained un))rotected in the port of Quim- 
perle, while Don I^ouis himself, with his soldiers, contin- 
ued to ravage the neighbourhood ; and Sir Waller JManny, 
landing witli his forces, set ofi" in pursuit of his enemy. 
They met, and engaged with fury. The English archers 
displayed their usual superiority. Don Alphonso, the 
nephew of Don f^ouis, was killed on the s))ot ; the Ge- 
neose and Spaniards dispersed themselves, and were de- 
stroyed by the Bretons, as they fled in different directions. 
Don fjouis, much wounded, with great difficulty made 
his escape in a swift-sailing skifF, whicli held only a few 
of his followers. 

Notwithstanding these successes on the part of the 
Countess of IMontfort and her auxiliaries, the forces of 
Charles de Olois daily increased ; and it became obvious, 
that although the troops of Sir Walter Manny were suf- 
ficient to deliver the countess, and to protect her person, 
yet more numerous and effectual succours were necessary 
for obtaining success in her undertaking, and maintaining 
Bretagne against the power of France. Charles of Blois 
had sue ceded in taking the important towns of Vannes 
and Karhuis, and had resolved again to attack Hen- 
:iebon, which might be considered as the principal seal 
of ihe war, since the countess and her son resided there, 
seiure in the strength of the place, which was protected 



SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 59 

^y strong trenches, to wliich the sea was admitted, and 
.10 less secure in the valour of Sir Waller AJanny, and 
the English auxiliary forces. 

Determined, therelore, to renew the siege, Charles of 
Blois and Don Louis of Spain reared up against Henne- 
bon sixteen engines of the largest size, with which they 
cast gieat stones into the place, and ruined the wails and 
defences. The besieged, however, strengthened their 
defences with a great number of woolpacks, which broke 
the force of the stones ; tliis encouraged the countess 
and her auxiliaries so much, that they upbraided the be- 
siegers by calling from the walls, " Why bring you not 
up the troops whom you carried from hence to Quim- 
perle ?" This insult was particularly directed against 
Louis of Spain, whose pride was highly offended at being 
thus reminded of his "shameful defeat, the loss of iiis 
army, his own wounds and flight, and the death of a be- 
loved nephew. He chose a n)ode of revenge, which 
accorded ill with the honourable sentiments by which 
men of his rank were then expected to guide themselves. 

Passing to the tent of Charles de Blois, Louis of Spain 
desired of him a boon, in requital of all the services 
which he had done him ; this was readily granted. When 
his request came to be explained, he demanded the per- 
sons of two gallant English knights, who had been made 
prisoners, when wounded, that he might do with them 
according to his pleasure ; declaring at the same time, tliat, 
in revenge of the insults of the people of Hennebon, and 
of the defeats he had suffered from the English, it was 
his purpose to strike off the heads of the prisoners within 
sight of the walls. Charles of Blois, who was a cour- 
teous and accom|)lisiied knight, answered the Spaniard 
that his boon should be readily granted, were it not asked 
for a purpose whic!) would dishonour Don Louis himself, 
and occasion the English generals to use retaliation or 
the prisoners of their party. Don Louis to tiiis expostu- 
lation sullenly replied, that if Charles did not grant him 
hv boon he required, he would on the spot renounce botli 
Iu3 cause and his corupany. Charle?of Blois, unable lo 



50 CHARLES OF BLOIS AND DON LOT 15 

dispense with the Spaniard's services, thought himsell 
Dbhged to deliver up the two English i)risoner3, who 
were named Sir John Butler and Sir Matlliew Tre- 
lawney, to be used as Don Louis pleased. Nor could 
any entreaty of those around divert the Spaniard from 
his savage and unknightly resolution of liaving them 
publicly executed shortly after dinner upon the same day. 

Sir VValter Manny, being informed of the imminent 
danger in which the two valiant knights stood, addressed 
his followers thus : '• Great honour were it to us should 
we be able to save the lives of yonder knights ; and even 
the attempt, though unsuccessful, will be praised by our 
good King P^dward, and by all men of worth who shall 
hear thereof." With this resolution, which was adopted 
with acclamation by all who heard the proposal, the 
greater part of tlie garrison, bein^ six thousand archers 
and three hundred men-at-arms, under the command of 
a gallant Breton knight. Sir Aymery of Clisson, sallied 
forth suddenly, and with great vigour, against the canip 
of the French, which they furiously assailed. The be- 
siegers immediately took to arms., and the battle becam.e 
very hot. In tlie meantime, Sir Walter Manny, taking 
a hundred men-at-arms and five hundred archers, whom 
he had reserved for that purpose; and sallying fi-oixi a pri- 
vate postern, fetclied a circuit, and fell upon the camp 
of the enemy, io a quarter where he met so little oppo- 
sition, that he penetrated to the tent where the two 
knighls were confined. Here he found them bound, and 
prepared for instant execution. He cut their bonds, 
mounted them on horseback, and carried them off in tri- 
umph, tlius delivering them from the destiny allotted to 
them by Louis of Spain. 

After sustaining this insult, Charles of Biois and his 
party, finding no chance of possessing themselves of 
Hennebon, raised the siege, and withdrew, after having 
established a truce with the Countess of IMontlbrt, which 
was to endure to the 15th of May following, when the 
weather would permit the campaign to be opened anew. 

1*3 the winter season the heroic countess herse^lf, with 



COUNTESS DE MONTFORT. 



61 



some of her principnl partisans, made a visit to Engic"id, 
where she kept lier Cliristmas in high stale, lionoured by 
all, as became her courage and celebrity. 

Early next year, an auxiliary army was raised in Eng- 
land for the service of Bretagne, and Robert of Artois, 
already mentioned, was its destined commander. He piii 
to sea about the middle of May, (A. D. 1343,) in which 
month the truce with Charles of Blois expired. The 
noble Countess de JMontfort returned to Bretagne with 
the same armament. Near Guernsey they fell in with 
the fleet of France, conuDanded by Don Louis of Spain, 
often already mentioned, and a brave leader as well on 
sea as on land. Both parties encountered with mutual 
animosity, the Countess de Montfort keeping the deck 
of her vessel with a drawn sword in her hand, like the 
knights aud men-at-arms on both sides. The engage- 
ment was very fieice, being on the one side maintained 
by the cross-bowmen of Genoa, and on the other by the 
English archers, both renowned for tiieir skill in their 
weapons ; but the fleets were parted by a storm, without 
the battle being decitled for either party. 

When Robert of Artois arrived in Bretagne with his 
forces, which were rather select than numerous, he made 
his first attack upon the strong city of Vannes, which he 
took by surprise. The success of the English in this 
enterprise induced their leaders to divide their forces. 
One party went to Hennebon, with the Coimtess of 
]\lonlfort and Sir Walter Manny, another, under the 
Earl of Salisbury and Pembroke, laid siege to tlie city 
of Rennes, and Robert of Artois was left, with very infe- 
rior forces, in possession of Vannes, his late acquisition. 
Here he was suddenly surrounded by twelve thousand 
French, assembled for the purpose of overpowering him. 
The besiegers, being at the same time afraid that they 
might themselves be attacked by the English, who lay 
before Rennes, made a sudden and desperate attack on 
the city of Vannes, and took it by storm. Robert de 
Artois was much wounded, and narrowly escaped to Hen- 
859 



C2 EDWARD III. ARRIVES IN BRETAGNE. 

nebon. From thence he took shipping for England ; but 
being detained upon the sea, his wounds rankled, and he 
died shortly after arriving in London. 1'hus perished 
tliat unfortunate exile, wliose personal resentment and 
vindictive counsel had been so inimedialely the occasion 
of this bloody war. Even his death appeared to he the 
means of exasperating it Edward 111., who loved 
Robert d'Artois, and considered him as a martyr in his 
cause, swore he would not rest till he had revenged his 
death, and for that purpose he would lead an army in 
person into Bretagne. He kept his oath accordingly, 
and arrived in that province with considerable forces in 
October, 1343. 

Philip of Valois now saw the necessity of making a 
great exertion. He commissioned his son, John Duke 
of Normandy, to levy as strong a force as possible, and 
drive the English from Bretagne. Accordingly, this 
young prince raised an army, amounting to more than 
forty thousand men, greatly superior, of course, to those 
Englishmen who had been sent thither under Robert 
d'Artois, even when united with the army under Edward 
himself. A battle might have been expected between 
two such considerable armies ; and such a crisis seemed, 
indeed, to be actually approaching. King Edward en- 
camped his army, now assembled into one body, before 
the city of Vannes, and the Duke of Normandy ap- 
proached the same town upon the other side, with a view 
to raise the siege ; but both armies were in a state of such 
difficulty as ])revented their hcting with effect. The 
English could not prudently make any attempt upon 
Vannes in presence of tlie French host, while, on the 
other hand, the French army, though more numerous, 
liared n )t assault the English, secured as they were by 
their strong intrenchments. Thus the armies lay front- 
mg eacli other, both sufficiently distressed for want of 
provisions. Little passed but skirmishing. At length 
the contending princes became inclined to listen to the 
arguments of two cardinals, sent by the Pope to mediate 
« pacifjoation between France and England, if such were 



INVASION OF GUIENNE. 63 

possible. These eminent cliurcliinen laboured so efTec- 
tually, that, in 1343, (A. D.) a truce was concluded be- 
tween King Edward and the Duke of Normandy, in the 
name of his father. France was tlierefore, for the 
present, relieved from 4ie presence of the English armies 
and their warlike monarch ; but the quarrel was too much 
embittered to permit of a speedy settlement. 
. It was not \on<z before both kings accused each othei 
of breach of the agreement, and of actions inconsistent 
with the truce. King Philip of Valois gave particular 
occasion to the charge, by putting to death certain Breton 
lords who had aaopted the party of De Montfort, and 
who had fallen into his hands during the war, as well as 
others whom he considered as intriguing with Edward, 
thougli they had hitherto preserved the external appear- 
ance of French subjects. Among these was the Lord 
of Clisson, a brave, powerful, and popular noble. On 
the other hand, the French king complained that King 
Edward kept on foot his party in Bretagne by all manner 
of indirect intrigues. In short both monarchs expressed 
themselves deeply offended with each other, and desirous 
of renewing the war as soon as convenient. 

The English parliament, although the French war 
entailed on the nation a burdensome and useless expense, 
entered nevertheless warmly into the passions of Edward, 
advised him to prosecute the war with vigour, and grant- 
ed him large subsidies to enable him to do so. The 
k'ng, thus encouraged by his subjects, sent in 1344, (A. 
D.,) a small army into Guienne, of great part of which 
province it must be remembered, the English were still 
possessed ; and also in the same year despatched rein- 
forcements to the party of De ^]ontfort in Bretagm;, 
where very many of the Bretons themselves, highly in- 
censed against the French for the cruel execution of 
several of their nobles, were in arms for the Countess of 
Montfort. The English troops sent to Guienne were 
placed under the counnand of the king's near kinsman, 
Henry of Lancaster, Earl of Derby. By the gooa 
raanagnment of this gallant chief, the English army took 



84 SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 

various towns in the south of France, and defeated in 
battle the French army under the Count de' I'lsle, an 
excellent general. 

The circumstances of the action were something ex- 
traordinary. A strong castle in Gascony, called Aube- 
roche, had been taken by the English, and three knights 
of their party were stationed there witli a garrison, for 
the defence of the place. The Count de I'Jsle, who 
had hitherto been outshone in activity and adventure by 
the Earl of Derby, now thought of recovenng his repu- 
tation by regaining this place of Auberoclie. He con- 
ceived he should be able to achieve this by such a rapid 
concentration of his forces, as he trusted might enable 
him to carry the castle, before the Earl of Derby, who 
was lying at Bourdeaux, could entertain any suspicion 
of his purpose. He summoned therefore around him all 
the vassals within reach, who owned the autliority of the 
King of France, and having thus assembled a considera- 
ble army, suddenly laid siege to Auberoche, where the 
small English garrison were totally unprovided for defence. 
The Frenchmen brought with them to the attack of the 
place four very powerful engines, wjiich they employed 
day and night in casting such huge stones as broke down 
tlie battlements, and shattered the roofs of the castle so 
much, that the garrison were compelled to shelter them- 
selves in the vaults and cellars. The besieged knights 
saw no chance of escape or relief, unless they could com- 
municate their hard case to the Earl of Derby, then 
lying at Bourdeaux, and request him to advance to their 
deliverance. 

One of their attendants undertook this perilous task, 
and, in the character of a Gascon peasant, attempted to 
pass through the camp of the enemy ; he was discov- 
ered, however, and seized. Tlie letter of the besieged 
knights to the Earl of Derby which the captive mes- 
senger bore, informed the besiegers of the straits in which 
the garrison was placed ; and, in order to make the be- 
sieged aware that their messenger had been intercepted, 
the French cruelly put the poor fellow upon one of their 



SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 65 

engines, and cast him into the town, accompanied with 
the insuhinif taunt, " Ask your messenger, sirs, wlieie he 
found the Earl of Derby, since he went out but last night, 
and returned again so shortly." 

Frank de hi Halle, a gallant German, and a faithful 
follower of Edward 111., who was one of those within the 
castle, answered boldly, " Sirs, though we be enclosed 
here, we shall issue when it pleases God ; and as to the 
Earl of Derby, if you will let us send a message to him 
touching our condition, there is not one of you will keep 
the field till his coming." — '•' Nay," answered the be- 
siegers, " this shall not serve your turn : it will he time 
enough for the Earl of Derby to know of your conditioa 
when the castle is rendered." — " That it shall never be !' 
answered Frank de la Halle : " we will rather die in it 
ruins." 

All these proceedings before Auberoche were conveyed 
to the Earl of Derby by a spy, whom that nobleman had 
'n the French camp. So soon as he received news of 
.he distress of the besieged, he- assembled his troops, 
ind sent to the Earl of Pembroke, then at Bergciac with 
a still larger force, to join him upon his march towards 
Auberoche. In the meantime he himself instantly set 
forth, accompanied by the Earl of Oxford, Sir Walter 
Manny, Lord Ferrars, Sir Richard Hastings, and other 
good knights, though having with them few followers. 
They tarried for some hours at a village called Lyboiue, 
to abide for the Earl of Pembroke, who did not appear. 
On the succeeding evening they left the village, and, 
riding all night, were within two leagues of Auberoche 
in the dawning. Here they lighted from their horses, 
and made a halt till it was noon, still hoping for the Earl 
of Pembroke's junction. He came not, however ; anc 
the English were now obliged to consider whether they 
shoidd venture to prosecute their enterprise with theii 
own slender force. They were only three hundred spears, 
and about six hundred archers, while the army of the 
Frea'h lying before Auberoche amounted to ten or twelve 



66 SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 

thousand men. The deterniination was not easy, for, 
while the gallant knights felt the shame of abandoning 
their companions at Auberoche, it seemed rash to j^o on 
at such a (hsadvantage. "In the name of God," said 
Sir Walter Manny, at length, ," let us direct our march 
upon Auberoche, under cover of this wood, which we 
may skirt without being descried, till we come upon the 
rear of the French where we are divided from them by 
open ground, and then take the advantage of a sudden 
and unexpected attack." 

To this the valiant knights present readily agreed, and 
the meii-at-urms continued their march towards Aube- 
roche, till they reached a small valley, where the French- 
men lay encam|)ed, — none of them thinking of an enemy, 
and most of them busied with their supper. The Eng- 
lish n)en at-arms then issued from the wood, having 
gained the rear of the besiegers, displayed their banner* 
and pennons, dashed their spurs into their horses, and 
rushed upon the enemy, crying their war-shout of " A 
Derby ! a Derby !" 

The sudden surprise compensated for the inferiority of 
numbers ; and such French knights and men-at-arms as 
could prepare for battle on the spur of the moment, found 
themselves exposed to the shot of the English archers, 
who were placed ready for that service. The Comte de 
risle was taken in his tent, with many others. The be- 
sieged knights, aho, bearing the tumult, and seeing the 
English ensigns, instantly armed themselves, and, rush- 
ing out, plunged into the thickest of the battle, and aug- 
mented the confusion of the French, who sustained, 
though by very inadequate means, a con)plete discomfit- 
ure. Their general, the Comte de Tlsle, with nine earls 
and viscounts, and almost all the lords, knights,- and 
squires of his army, remained captives ; and there was 
scarce an English man-at-arms who had not two or three 
prisonf^rs. 

On the next morning, the Earl of F^embroke appeared 
at the head of a strong body of English, and blamed the 
Rarl of Derby for engaging the enemy without him, 



FEUDAL CHIVALRY. 67 

since he might be sure, that, being sent for, he would 
not fail to keep the appointment. The Earl of Derby 
answered gently, that they had already tarried n)any 
hours for their companions ; and that, had he suspendeci 
the attack longer, they might have been discovered by 
the enemy ; in which case, the French might have at- 
tained the advantage which had so fortunately fallen to 
the English. 

Tluis terminated the campaign under the Earl of Der- 
by, during the year 1344. In spring 1345, (A. D.) the 
Earl of Derby, now become Earl of Lancaster by his 
father's death, was reinforced from England, and resumed 
his career of conquest in Gascony ; and, as well by 
taking several towns, as by skirmishes in the field, gained 
great honour for himself, and extended in that province 
the authority of England. The Duke of Normandy, at 
the head of the knights and chivalry of that duchy, con- 
tinued the principal opponent of the English, and t!ie was 
was carried on with great activity on both sides. 

It is impossible for us to give a minute description of 
these events, although the gallantry with which they 
were performed, has enabled the celebrated Froissart to 
decorate his splendid pages with many details of roman- 
tic chivalry. It will be more useful for you to obtain 
some idea of the description of troops that formed the 
annies by which these wars were carried on, and of the 
tactics upon which they acted. 

You are already aware, that the strength of the armies 
m the fourteenth century consisted in cavalry, which was 
levied aln)ost entirely upon feudal principles, with the 
exception of the mercenary troops, who must be consid 
ered separately. 

The regular feudal horsemen consisted of the knights, 
of whom 1 have endeavoured to give you some idea, to- 
gether with their squires, pages, and personal attendants. 
The number of those who waited upon each knight, va- 
ried with circumstances ; in especial cases, according to 
the means that their master had of maintaining thein, a? 
well as to his fame in arms ; but p;eneJ'illy amounted ic 



68 KNIGHTS ADVENTURERS. 

about five men for eacb lance, that is, as the retinue of 
each kmght. This cliivalry was called out as vassals of 
the crown, of vvhoni the leaders held their lands, and 
their service was considered as rendered in requital oi 
their several estates ; each powerful crown vassal being 
attended of course by his subordinate dependents, who 
served him on the same terms as he served the crown. 
Such was the system upon which the feudal cavalry were 
formed. 

But it must be recollected that every knight was not 
necessarily possessed of land, which he held for military 
service ; on the contrary, very many were elevated to 
that dignity, who either never had any estates oi their 
own, or who had spent, or otherwise lost them. This 
must have been frequently the case, since the dignity of 
knighthood could be conferred upon any one whom an 
individual knight judged worthy of the honour. The 
order could, therefore, be multiplied to an infinite number 
without regard to any thing but the personal qualities of 
those on whom it was conferred, and especially to theii 
skill in arms and military exercises. The number of 
knights, without either lands or substance, who sought 
adventuies, merely to essay their courage, and push theii 
fortunes in life, was very great ; and these " bold bache- 
lors," as they were called, were the flower of every feudal 
arn)y. They subsisted by the bounty, or largesse, as it 
was called, of the princes whom they served, which was 
one great source of expense to those who embarked in 
war ; and the intrepidity with which tliey engaged in 
combat was increased in proportion, in order to attract 
the favour of their leader. 

A successful war had also its peculiar advantages to 
those chivalrous adventurers. The knights, or nobles 
who were overcome in battle, and compelled to yield 
theniselves to the more fortunate among the victors, 
"rescue or no rescue," were obliged to purchase their 
liberty at such sum as might be agreed on. The con- 
ditions of these bargains were well understooc^., and the 
prisoner, according to his rank and wealth, adjusted with 



APPOINTMENTS OF THE KNIGHTS. 69 

his captor the price of liij enfrancliisement. On this sub- 
ject, so Diucli generosity prevailed among the F'rench 
and English in particnhir, that the victorious party Ire- 
qnently did not carry lljeir prisoners off the field, hut 
freely dismissed them, under tlie sole condition, thai tliey 
should meet the captors afterwards, at a time and place 
fixed, and settle the terms of their ransom. To i'tiII in 
such an appointment would havf; been, on the part of the 
captive knii^ht, held most unworthy and dishonourable, 
and he would have exposed himself to the scorn of the 
ladies, minstrels, and heralds, to stand high in whose praise 
was the esjjecial object of every true son of chivalry. 

Besides these casual |)rofits, which, when the war was 
successful, and the enemy wealthy, often rose to a great 
sum, the knights-adventurers, in time of peace, wandered 
from court to court, and castle to castle, exhibiting their 
skill in tournaments, gaining the favour of the lords un- 
der whose patronage sucli martial exercises were displayed, 
and sometiuies acquiring the love of heiresses, by whom 
their fortunes were established. In the meantime, rich 
prizes were often gained by the victors in these military 
exhibitions ; while, at any rate, the expenses of the 
knights who attended them, as well as of their retinue, 
was defrayed with prodigality by the sovereign prince, 
or high noble, at whose court the entertainment was 
£i;iven. Thus, though without lands and revenues, hun- 
dreds and thousands of those sons of chivalry subsisted 
with ease and honour, during this romantic period. There 
^vere also numbers of knights, doubtless, who died in 
})overty and misery, and the end of an unsuccessful ex- 
pedition was usually signalized by the total ruin of the 
knights-adventurers who had been engaged in it. Such 
were the cavalry, liie very flower, of course, of the feudal 
armies. 

The appointments of these knights consisted in a suit 
of armour, more or less perfect, which defended the whole 
person. Sometimes it was made of mail, that is, links 
of iron, forminir a sort of network dress, which covered 
the person, and was ahnost impenetrable either to sword 
14 4th See. 



^0 XHE ENGLISH ARCHERS. 

nr lance. Latterly, the armour was composed of plates 
of iron, which protected the men-at-arms from head to 
heel. The offensive weapons of the knight were, a lance, 
twelve or fifteen feet long, a heavy sword, a dagger, and 
often a species of battle-axe, or a steel club, called & 
mace-at-arms. The horse, like the knight, was covered , 
either with a housing made of mail, or with armour of 
plate. When mounted, and charging in squadron, as the 
kiii_i(ht and his horse were almost invulnerable, so their 
attack was well-nigh irresistible. Sotnetimes it was thought 
necessary to employ the men-at-arms on foot, on which 
occasion they w'ere commanded to put off their spurs, 
and cut their lances to the length of five or six feet, so 
as to make the weapon less unwieldy. 

The men-at-arms w-ere sometimes liable to be sur- 
prised. Upon a march they seldom wore the weightier 
parts of their armour ; and their heavy war-horse was 
rode, or led beside them by a page, while the knight 
himself bestrode a hackney, to receive his armed horse 
fresh for the moment of battle. A sudden attack, there- 
fore, was apt to discompose the men-at-arms before they 
could be iully prepared for action. If the war-horse 
was killed in battle, the knight was, in most instances, 
taken or slain, since he could not raise himself from the 
ground, without assistance from the squires or pages who 
attended for tliat purpose. 

We are now to consider the state of their infantry, 
which, in comparison, was of a very inferior description. 

We must remark one great distinction, however, in 
favour of the archery of England, a species of troops 
almost unknown to any other country, and possessing 
qualities which decided very many battles in favour of 
their own. You can easily conceive that the ,nfantry of 
every nation must be divided into two kinds, calculated 
for two distinct services, to which their weapons are 
severally adapted ; one of these distinct species of force 
must be armed with missiles for distant warfare, the other, 
with weapons fitted to strike or thaist in a close encouu- 
'er. ]\iodern times indeed have, in a great measure, 



THE ENGLISH ARCHEH5. 71 

uni'ed them both, by adopting the musket and bayonet ; 
ihe former for more distant, tlie latter for close combat. 
But at the period we speak of, no weapon existed pos- 
sessing this double advantage. Of liie troops then em- 
ployed, the bowmen of England were the most formida- 
ble at a distance. They were selected from the yeomen 
of the country, men to whom the use of the weapon had 
been familiar from childhood ; for the practice of archery 
was then encouraged by prizes and public competition, in 
every village, in order to keep up the skill which the 
youth had acquired, and to extend the renown of Eng- 
land, as producing the best bowmen whom the world had 
ever seen. 

The equipment and mode of exercise of these archers 
were calculated to maintain their superiority. TDeir dress 
was light, and had few ligatuies. Instead of the nume- 
rous strings which then attached the jacket to the hose, or 
trousers, one stout point, as it was called, answered the 
necessary purpose, without impeding the motions of the 
wearer. In battle the sleeve of the right arm was left 
open, to increase the archer's agility. Each of ihem car- 
tied a bow, and twelve arrows, or, as they termed then), 
^'' the lives of twelve Scots," at his girrlle ; their shafts 
had a light forked head, and were carefully adjusted so as 
to fly true to the aim. In using the weapon, the English 
archers observed a practice unknown on the continent, 
drawing the bowstring not to the breast, but to the ear, 
which gave a far greater command of a strong bow and 
long shaft. Their arrows were, accordingly, a cloth yard 
in length, and their bows carried to a prodigious distance. 
Upon the battlements of a castle, or walls of a town, the 
arrows fell with the rapidity of hail, and such certainty of 
aim, as scarcely permitted a defender to show himself; 
nor were they less formidable when discharged against a 
hostile column, whether of cavalry or infantry, and 
whether in motion or stationary. The principal (Janger 
to which the archers were exposed was that of a rapid 
and determined charge from cavalry. To provide jn 
some degree against this, each archer used to carry a 



T2 ENGLISH ARCHERS AND BILLMEN. 

wooden stake sliod with iron at both ends, the planting ol 
wliich before him might, in some measure, afford a covei 
ffoai liorse. They had also swords. Ti)e stakes, -how- 
ever, were not always in readiness, nor were they always 
found effectual for the purpose, neither were their swords 
an adequate protection against cavalry. At the famous 
battle of Bannockburn, Bruce obtained that decisive vic- 
tory chiefly by a well-executed manoeuvre for cutting to 
pieces the English archers, by a body of horse reserved 
for that service. Two or three other cases may be 
noticed, in which the French obtairicd similar advantages 
over tlie archers, by providing tliemselves with pavisses, 
that is, long targets, strong enough lo protect them from 
shot. But these cases are very few, in comparison to the 
numerous instances in which tlie long bow proved supe- 
rior both in France and Scotland. 

Tiie second division of t!)e Knglish infantry destined 
to fight hand to hand, was armed with bills, as they were 
called, weapons similar in shape to those knives with 
which husbandmen dress hedges, but placed upon longer 
handles. These two kinds of weapons were used by the 
Englisl) infantry, so exclusively, that their cry to arms 
used to be, " Bows and bills — bows and bills !" It is re- 
markable that both the national weapons were used by 
the contending parties in the battle of Hastings, where 
the Normans were ar.ned with the long bow, and the Sax- 
ons with the gisarme, or bill. The armies of the English, 
in later days, had troops armed with both, as intended 
not only for distant but close combat. 

The bill which they used in close fight was a formida- 
ble weapon, though clumsy in action, since it required to 
be wielded with both hands, and therefore prevented 
those who used it from forming a compact body. It was 
certainly unequal, in a fair field, to the lances of the 
Scottisl), nor does it seem to have given to those who 
bore it, any permanent or assured superiority over the 
same force in the French army. 

This may, however, be said with truth, that neither the 
bowrann nor bill men of England were, generally speak- 



GENOESE CROSS-BOWMEN. 73 

ing, exposed to the same oppression to which he peasants 
of Fraiice were subjected, and that possess nig a more 
independent character as individuals, they were less ha- 
ble to lose heart in dani;er,and more eager to sustain their 
national reputation. Upon tlie wiiole, however, tlie ei- 
forts of the iidantry were so little relied u|)on at tJiat 
period, that little was trusted to them in action, except in 
the case of tlie English archers. The men-at-arms on 
both sides might be considered as upon an equality ; and 
the infantry who fought hand to hand, were so much so, 
that, in so far as regards that class of soldiers, it was ac- 
cidental circiunstances only which could decide the event 
of a field betwixt France and England. 

To oppose the archery of their national antagonists, 
the Frencli had no better resource than hiring, from Ge- 
noa and elsewhere, Italians and other strangers, weli 
skilled in the use of the cross-bow, a species of weapon 
accounted so murderously fatal, that it was at one time 
prohibited by an edict of the Church as unchristian. To 
defend a fortress, or the walls of a town, where the 
shooter was in some degree sheltered by a parapet, the 
cross-bow was indeed a terrible instrumeat, though even 
there it was often found inferior to the English long-bow ; 
still more was this the case in an open field, where an 
English archer might shoot five, or perhaps ten arrows, 
while the difficulty of cliarging these steel bows, which 
required to be bent by the slow operation of a windlass, 
hardly permitted the cross-bowman to send forth a single 
bolt. , Of this you will find instances in a subsequent 
part of this volume. ■ 

The ordinary infantry of France, levied amongst the 
lowest drudges among her peasantry, added much to the 
nun)bers, but little to the military strength, and a great 
deal to the unwieldly confusion, of their great armies. 
These poor men felt that they were little trusted to, and 
cannot be supposed to have displayed much zeal in be- 
half of masters by whom they were contenmed and op- 
pressed. They wore almost no defensive arnour, if wq 



74 INVENTION OF GUNPOWDER. 

except tan -ed hides, and were irregularly armed with 
swords, spears, or clubs, as ofiensive weapons. No kind 
of discipline was taught them, and when attacked Ly the 
inen-at-arnis, they seem frequently to have made no 
more effectual defence than might have been expected 
from a flock of sheep. 

I may here mention, that gunpowder was discovered 
about this time ; but at this, and down to a much later 
period, it was little used or understood in war. One au- 
thor pretends that Edward III. had field-pieces at the 
battle of Cressy ; but, had it been so, it seems probable 
ihat so remarkable a circumstance would have been more 
generally noticed. Such awkward and unwieldly cannon 
as the :ige possessed, were chiefly used in sieges. They 
were clumsy to transport, slow to load, and often burst 
when discharged. So that, as already hinted, it was long 
ere the invention began to produce that alteration in war- 
fare, which it finally accomplished to so great an extent. 

Such being the general state of the French and Eng- 
lish armies, so far as they consisted of national troops, I 
have now to remind you, that the armies of both wore 
often augmented by the mercenary soldiers of the period, 
■ — men who had learned, among the tumults of the age, 
the desperate trade of war, and who, without acknow- 
ledging any nation or king of their own, were desirous to 
afford the benefit of their discipline and experience to 
those who were most willing to pay for their assistance. 
These bands were composed of adventurers of different 
nations, commanded by approved soldiers, who were 
sometimes recommended by their birth and rank, often by 
their superior activity and rapacity, but in all cases by 
their valour and success. These leaders followed upon a 
greater scale the course of individual knights, and hoped, 
not by iheir own prowess alone, but by the assistance of 
the soldiers whom they levied and commanded, to rise to 
wealth and consequence. Tliese bands were the terror 
and scourge of the peasantry, whom they oppressed with- 
out me'jy, since, when they were not in the actual pay 
uf some prince, they subsisted themselves by force at the 



MERCENARIES. 75 

expense of the natives of the country in winch they re- 
sided for the lime. 

The Kings of England, and especially of France, set 
themselves at times seriously about the task of extirpating 
these debauched bands of ruffian soldiery, who, having no 
home or country of their own, were a general plague to 
other nations. But the purpose of extirpation was never 
effectually followed out ; for the sovereigns were every 
now and then taught by necessity the convenience of be- 
ing able to collect for a certain expenditure of treasure a 
body of experienced soldiers, as brave and better armed 
than any wliom they could levy in their own dominions, 
and thus were freed from the necessity of dejiending on 
the humour of a fickle and overgrown crown vassal, who 
might be pleased with an opportunity of distressing and 
contradicting his liege lord, and enabled to rely upon that 
of a mercenary leader, whose faithful adherence might be 
calculated upon so long as his pay was duly fmnished. 
Thus the same plague which was complained of during 
the reigns of Stephen and John of England, and the con- 
temporary sovereigns of France, revived ii its wildest 
extent, during the calamitous period wii;ch we aie now 
tr»;3:inu of. 



jG KDAVARD III. OF ENGLAND 



CHAPTER IV. 

Edward III. loses several of his adherents in the jLuIB 
Countries, as the lireiver D''Arteville, and the Counts 
of ilainault and Jllonffori — his Interest is espoused 
by Godfrey of Harcourt, n discarded Fovovrite of 
the King of France — by the advice of Harcourt, an. 
Invasion of Gascony is resolved on, and takes place 
— Pliilrp assembles an army at St. Dennis, and 
marches to the defence of Rouen, tvhich is threatened 
by the Enirlish — JManornvrcs of Edward, by which he 
accomplish-s a passage from the left to the light bank 
of the Seine — after tivo day^s march, folloived by the 
French army, he crosses the Somine, and takes vp 
battle-ground in the Forest of Cressy — the French 
come up — Battle of Cressy. 

In the conclusion of llie last chapter, we gave a brief 
account of tiie manner in \vl)ich troops were trained and 
armed during the thirteenth and fourteeniii centuries. 
We n)u?t now return to the proper subject of this little 
work, wiiich is intended to convey some general idea of 
French history, especially as it bears upon, and is con- 
nected with, that of Britain. 

1 must first observe, that the plans by which Edward 
111. endeavoured to establish himself on the throne of 
France, and to revenge the affront whicli he had received 
from Philip of Valois, weie rather more fieqnentlv 
changed than accorded with that prince's consumm<ite sa- 
gacity. In 13-1.3,(A. D.) he again leturnerl to a project 
in whici) both his grnndfather and he had already failed ; 
namely, that of attacking France upon the eastern fron- 
tier, by means of the Brabanters, Flemings, and Germans. 
But, on the present occasion, he did not appeal to the 
.nobles o' princes of Flanders, but to the inhabitants of 



DEATH OF d'aRTEVILLE 77 

the great towns, in which he followed a policy adopted 
at one time by Philip tlie Fair, although his successors 
had exchanged it for the counter plan of supporting tlie 
earls and nobles of tlie Low Countries aga'hst the insur- 
gent citizens of the trading towns. 

We have already observed, that f^dward was in close 
correspondence with Jacob d'Arleville, a brewer of 
great wealth and importance, who appeared for a time to 
have the conunand of all the common people of the great 
towns of Flanders. Through means of his influence 
witli this demagogue, Edward had formed the plan of ad- 
vancing iiis own son, also named Edward, afterwards the 
celebrated Rlack Prince, to the dignity of Earl of Flan- 
ders, in preference to the natural lord, Louis, who was 
attached to the French interest. The proposal, however, 
,vas so disgusting to tiie more moderate burgesses to 
whom it was communicated, that D'Arleville, w^ho had 
lately reigned like a prince among them, was now looked 
upon with as much abhorrence as ever he had been held 
in estiii.ation. At lengtli, the displeasure of the citizens 
against him rose so high, that, as this once powerful dem- 
agogue rode into Ghent, accompanied bv a small guard 
of Welshmen, who had been appointed to attend him by 
Edward 111., he was encountered by such evil looks and 
menaces, that he was compelled to take refuge from pop- 
ular indignation in a liouse, which the Welshmen for a 
space defended. But this place of refuge being after- 
wards forced by the multitude, they were themselves the 
assassins of their former favourite ; and with him perished 
Edward's hope of establishing his son as Earl of Flan- 
ders. 

Edward sustained another loss about tlie same time in 
the person of Ins brother-in-law, the Count of Hainault, 
a brave young man, who was slain in an attempt to sub- 
due the revolted natives of Friesland. Sir John of Hai- 
nault, uncle to the slain prince, became, after his death, 
vnifriendly to Edward, to whom he had been hitherto at- 
tached, but, as he thought, without receiving adequate 
960 



78 DEATHS OF HAlN.»uLT AND MONTF ORT. 

requital. He therefore left the service of the English 
killer lor that of Piiilip of France. 

About the same period also, according to the opinion 
of most historians, John de Montfort escaped horn a French 
prison, or was set at liberty by Philip, in consequence of 
the previous truce, and once more took the field in Bre- 
tagne, with the assirtar.ce of an English auxiliary force 
under the Earl of Northampton, (A. D. 1345.) They 
laid siege to Quimperle, where the Count of IMontfort 
completed his career of misfortune, by dying of a fever 
before the town. 

Upon the w-hole, therefore, these successive losses of 
powerful friends diminished the various means by which 
King Edward had hoped to make an impression upon 
France, either on the eastern or western frontier. 

hi this same eventful year, 1345, (A. D.) however, 
Edward ill. acquired anotlier counsellor, who fled from 
the enemy, by whose advice he again altered, in a great 
measure, the direction of his attacks upon France. This 
was a powerful nobleman of Normandy, named Godfrey 
of Harcourt, Lord of Saint Saviour Le Vicompte, and 
brotlier to John, Earl of Harcourt. Sir Godfrey himself 
had once stood as higli in the favour of Philip of Valois, 
as any nobleman of his kingdom. But upon tlie occa- 
sion of a quarrel betwixt him and Sir Robert Bertram, 
Marshal of France, the king took the part of the latter so 
earnestly, that, could he have got Sir Godfrey into his 
power, there is little doubt that he would have dealt with 
him as with the Breton Lord of Clisson, whom, on small 
suspicion, he caused to be executed for alleged adherence 
to the English interest. Sir Godfrey of Harcourt fled in 
good time to England, and, like Robert of Artois before 
him, employed his address and eloquence, bolh which he 
possessed in perfection, to animate the King of England 
to make Sir Godfrey's own country of Normandy, the 
principal scene of his attacks upon France. " It is," 
said Godfrey of Harcourt, " one of the most plentiful 
provinces in the kingdom ; it has not witnessed war for 
two ages, and is occupied by great and wealthy towns 



EDWARD INVADES FRANCE. 79 

unprotected by any adequate fortifications. The nobility 
of Normandy are," he continued, " now absent from the 
country, having accompanied Philip's eldest son, John; 
who has conducted them southward to carry on the war 
with Gascony." The exile urged that Normandy was 
an ancient inheritance of England, which they might now 
recover with little trouble, and which, if subdued, would 
be a conquest glorious to King Edward, particularly use- 
ful from its vicinity to England, and an event not altogether 
displeasing to the Normans themselves. 

Encouraged by this advice, Edward III. put himself 
at the head of a considerable army, which he pretended 
was designed for prosecuting the war in Gascony. (A. D. 
1346.) But, instead of holding this course, the king, 
when embarked, steered straight to thecoast of Normandy, 
and landed at the town of La Hogue. Upon information 
that this, ancient enemy had accomplished his present 
attempt at invading France in a new direction, the King 
of France failed not to collect the whole force of his 
kingdom, together with those of his allies, John of Lux- 
embourg, the old King of Bohemia, with his son Charles, 
Emperor-elect of Germany, the Duke of Lorraine, John 
of Hainault, once the King of England's ally, Louis, Earl 
of Flanders, and Jacques, titular King of Majorca. The 
titles of some of these princes were more considerable 
than their power, but still, by their assistance, and that 
of his own liegemen and great vassals, Philip found him- 
self at the head of a powerful and gallant army, which 
emboldened him to swear resolutely that the king of 
England should not return to his own country without 
battle, in which he should be sufficiently punished for the 
slaughter, depredation, and extreme violence, which he 
was now exercising in the kingdom of France. The 
greater part of Philip's army was assembled at St. Den- 
nis, close to Paris ; but the king himself, assuming the 
command of such forces as could be got presently in 
readiness, moved down the Seine to defend Rouen, the 
capital of Normandy, which was threatened by tht-: 
English. 



80 ALARM AT PARIS 

In the meantime, Edward III. divided his strong armj 
into three bodies : the first of which was commanded by 
himself; the second by the Earl of Warwick ; ^nd the 
third by Sir Godfrey of Harcourt, whose advice the 
king used, as principal marshal of his army during all this 
expedition, of which indeed he had been the main author 
and adviser. The English, as Sir Godfrey had prophe- 
sied, found the cities of Normandy at once wealtliy and 
ill-defended, so that they made very great spoil with little 
danger, while the loss lo the unfortunate inhabitants was, 
as usual in such cases, much greater than the riches ac- 
quired by the invaders. The city of Caen, full of mer- 
chandise and wealth of every kind, was carried by storm, 
after such a resistance that Edward, in resentment of so 
obstinate a defence, would have burnt the place to the 
ground, had not Sir Godfrey of Harcourt's intercession 
deterred him from this violence. 

It may be mentioned, that while Normandy was sus- 
taining this severe treatment from the land forces in the 
interior, the English fleet was as busily employed plunder- 
ing, destroying, and burning the seaport towns on the 
coast, witli the shipping which they contained. In this 
manner the English monarch ascended the left bank of 
the river Seine, with the purpose of assaulting Rouen, 
the capital of Normandy. This, however, was prevented 
by the march of Philip of Valois to its relief, before no- 
ticed. The river Seine now divided the two armies ; 
and, all the bridges being broken down, neither host durst 
pass the river for the purpose of attacking their enemy, 
lest in the act of doing so they should be taken at ad- 
vantage by that which held the opposite bank. The 
French king, in particular, was more reconciled to post- 
pone a general battle, being conscious of possessing a 
great superiority of numbers, from which he enteitained 
a well-judged hope that Edward's army, prevented from 
crossing the river, might be enclosed in the country on 
ihe opposite side, and compelled to fight at disadvantage.. 

In the meantime the citizens of Paris were in the ul- 
•I'lost confusion, knowing the near approach of the Eng, 



PASSAGE OF THE SOMME. S} 

lish army, and aftaid of the terrors of military execution, 
attendant on the march of Edward, who was by no means 
famed for clemency. King Philip with difficulty per- 
suaded them that the measure which he had taken, of 
marching down the right hank of the Seine, which had 
the appearance of leaving Paris open to the enemy, if tiie 
Enu;lish should ascend the opposite bank, was, in fact, 
that which was best adapted to cover his metropolis. 

It soon, however, became plain, that Edward had no 
design against the French capital ; for that king, having 
made a sudden movement upon Poissy, repaired the bridge 
there, which had been but imperfectly demolished, and, 
by an able military manoeuvre, crossed the Seine, and 
moved eastward towards Flanders. He thus extricated 
himself from the difficulty in which Philip conceived him 
to be involved. 

When the English monarch had attained the right bank 
of the Seine, the fires raised by his soldiery, in their de- 
structive progress, alarmed the capital once more ; but 
the English, after defying the King of France to instant 
battle, departed towards Beauvais, of which town tliey 
burnt the suburbs. In this manner eluding the French 
army. King Edward pursued his course with all diligence 
towards Flanders, closely followed by King Phi!ip and 
his army. 

But after a day or two's march, the English king seem- 
ed once more entangled in the toils drawn round him by 
his enemy. The march of the English was here inter- 
rupted by the deep river Somme, impassable at all points, 
and on which every bridge had been destroyed. To 
have awaited the advance of the numerous French army, 
witli an impassable river in his fj-ont, would have been a 
perilous adventure. The King of England was therefore 
extremely desirous to find the means of passing the deep 
Somme, although a noble French lord, called Gondemai 
de Fay, was upon the opposite bank, at the head of the 
gentlemen of Artois and Picardy, with the. purpose of de- 
fendmg the passage, which must be at best a dangerous 
one, with a superior army in the rear, and over a river 



82 DISAPPOINTMENT OF PHILIP. 

which was so near the sea as to be affected by the title. 
Having made enquiry among the French prisoners con- 
cerning the means of crossing", and offered hberty for him 
self and thirty of his companions, to whomsoever should 
point out a practicable ford, King Edward received from 
one of his captives the following agreeable intelligence. 
"Know, sir, that during the ebb-tide, which happens 
twice in twelve liours, the river Somme is so low that it 
may be passed with security either by horse or foot, at a 
ford to which I can guide you. At this place the bottom 
is hard and firm, and being composed of chalk, and simi- 
lar materials, it is called Blanchettaque, (that is, white 
watei'.") 

Overjoyed at this news, Edward drew his army to the 
ford, where, as the flood tide was still making, he was 
compelled to wait for an hour or two. In the meantime, 
Sir Gondemar de Fay, made aware of the purpose of the 
English, drew up his men, who amounted to near twelve 
thousand, on the opposite side of the river, resolved to 
dispute tlie passage. But the moment had no sooner ar- 
rived when the ford w-as practicable, than Edward, having 
coiiimai'ided his marshals to enter the river, called aloud, 
" Let those who love me follow me," and plunged in 
among the foiemost, his army following in good order. 
Notwithstanding a valiant op[)Osition on the part of the 
French., who defended the opposite bank, they were com- 
pelled to give way, after losing two thousand men-at-arms, 
and the greater part of their infantry, who had no means 
of escape from the English cavalry, so soon as the pas- 
sage was completed. 

This w-as a very delicate and important manoeuvre on 
the part of the Englisli, for the main army of Philip fol- 
lowed so close, that part of King Edward's rear-guard 
Buffered from the van-guard of the French, before they 
could cross the river. Philip himself soon afterwards 
came up, and having been fidl of hope either that the 
English would* not discover the ford at Blanchettaque, oi 
that it might be effectually defended against them by Sii 
Gondemar de Fay, he was proportionally vexed at find- 



ENGLISH FORCES. 83 

mg how the English monarch had again extricated him- 
self from the risk of being compelled to fight at disad- 
vantage, and exclaimed, though unjustly, against Sir 
Gondemar de Fay, as guilty of treason and disloyalty, in 
failing to make good his post. 

By the advice of his best leaders, the French king 
agreed that he would not follow the English by the ford, 
lest the enemy should turn back and attack him in the 
passage ; but, drawing off his army to Abbeville, he 
judged it better to secure the bridge over the Somme, at 
that town, and after spending a day there to refresh his 
troops, and give such forces as followed in his rear time 
to come up and join him, he might then advance in quest 
of the English. Accordingly, Philip spent the 25th of 
August in the manner recommended. 

In the meantime. King Edward, being now on the 
ground fitted for engaging the enemy, declared his pur- 
pose, that he would pursue his retreat no farther, but 
fight with Philip of Valois, whatever the odds of numbers 
might be. " This county of Ponthieu was the just 
heritage of Queen Eleanor, my mother," said he ; " I 
now challenge it as my own ; and may God defend the 
right !" 

The place where he made this declaration was open 
ground, called the Forest of Cressy, a name which has 
been made memorable by the events of the following 
day. The army of the English was here drawn up ar- 
ranged in three divisions, to await the advance of the 
French. 

In the first, was Edward, prince of Wales, now in hi; 
sixteenth year, but of strength and courage far beyond 
his age, and whose brief life has made historians observe, 
that few characters have put more feats of heroism into 
the compass of so few years. Many veteran warriors 
were placed under the command of the young prince, who 
vvas thus ranked foremost in the battle; but Lord War- 
wick, and Lord John Chandos, were specially intru-ted 
by his father with the task of directing and defending him 
in any difficulty. His division amounted to eight thousand 



84 EVE OF THE BATTLE. 

men-at-aims, four thousand archers, and six thousanc. 
Welshmen. 

The second battalion consisted of eight hundred men- 
at-arms, two thousand four hundred archers, and four 
thousand bilhnen. 

The third, and last battalion of the English, was com 
inanded by the king in person, and consisted of seven 
hundred men-at-arms, six thousand archers, and four 
thousand three hundred billmen. The full amount of the 
English army was probably about thirty thousand men. 

These three divisions were drawn up in the order 
which they were to preserve in battle, and then appoint- 
ed to take refreshment, and go to sleep on the grass, 
upon their arms. The night was warm, and rendered 
this interval of repose acceptable and refreshing to troops, 
fatigued with long marches and spare diet. Their spirits 
were gay and cheerful ; and though they were conscious 
of considerable inferiority in numbers, the reflection, 
far from inducing them to doubt of the issue of the day, 
inclined them only to pay more scrupulous attention to 
the command of their officers, by whose guidance they 
hoped to gain it. The presence of their experienced 
monarch, and his valiant son, filled the host with hope 
and confidence. 

Next morning was the memorable 26th of August, 
1346. (A. D.) Early in the morning the English army 
arose in the same order in which they had lain down to 
rest the evening before. 

The French forces were some time in coming up. 
During this interval, to increase the enthusiasm of his 
soldiers, Edward conferred the honour of knighthood on 
the Prince of Wales, and a large band of noble youths, 
companions of the heir-apparent, who were expected so 
to behave in the conflict as to ivin their spurs ; that is, 
to show themselves worthy of the distinction they had 
received, by their admission into the order of chivalry, 
of wiiich the spurs Avere an emblem. 

On the same morning, King Philip, mustering his army 
at smrise, led them forth from the town of Abbeville 



CONFIDENCE OF THE FRENCH. 85 

where they had passed the night, and, with more haste 
than caution, advanced towards the Enghsh, a distance 
of between three and four leagues. 

i\lany circumstances contributed to increase King Phil- 
ip's confidence, and impress upon his army feelings which 
amounted to presumption. They had for several weeks 
been superior to their enemy in the field ; and, since the 
crossing of the Seine, as well as the subsequent passage 
of the Somme at Blanchettaque, it had been the object 
of the English to avoid that engagement which was now 
fast approaching. The French cavalry had also received 
a gallant addition from the arrival of Amadeus, Earl of 
Savoy, who, the very day before the battle, joined Phil- 
ip, at Abbeville, with a thousand lances, a great addition 
to his previous superiority. These encouraging circum- 
stances inspired into both officers and soldiers an impru- 
dent degree of haste and precipitation, as was natural to 
men who conceived that they were in chase of a flying 
enemy. 

The movements of this great army were therefore 
hurried, like that of men who advanced to a pursuit 
rather than a battle.. Yet all did not partake the san- 
guin>e hopes which dictated these hasty movements. The 
advice of a veteran German warrior, sent to reconnoitre 
the English army, strongly recommended to King Philip 
to halt the advance of his own forces, and put off the 
battle till next morning. " The English," he said, 
" have reposed in a position which they have deliberately 
adopted, and doubtless will not shrink from, without a 
desperate defence. Your men are tired with their long 
morning's march from Abbeville, confused with the 
haste of their advance, and must meet at great disad"an- 
tage, a well-arranged enemy, refreshed by food and 
repose." 

The King of France listened to this experienced coun- 
sel, and expressed his desire to follow it, by halting im 
army for the day, and postponinsf the battle till the mor- 
row. But the evil fate of France had decreed that his 



i6 J-RKNCH FOnCES. 

purpose should not be carried into execution. The troops 
u ho formed the vanguard of the French host, halted in 
lieed at the word of command, but those who came be 
hind flurried onward, with the idle bravado that " they 
would make no stop till they were as far forward as the 
foremost." In this way they exhausted their spirits, ex- 
pended their strength, and confused their ranks, many 
brandishing their swords with idle exclamations of " At- 
tack, take, and slay !" before they were even in sight of 
the enemy. To stop men in this state of excitation was 
impossible. 

King Philip, thus hurried forward to battle by the want 
of discipline of his own troops, had divided his army into 
three bodies. The first was under the command of the 
King of Bohemia, seconded by Charles of Luxembourg, 
his son. Emperor-elect of Germany, and of Charles, 
Earl of Alen^on, the brother of King Philip, a brave, 
but fiery and rash young cavalier. The Genoese cross- 
bowmen, fifteen thousand in number, were all placed in 
this first division. The French accounted the.m a match 
for the English archers, and trusted that their superior 
discharge in the commencement of tlie action would clear 
the field of these formidable forces. They had also 
more than twenty-nine thousand men to support their 
bowmen. 

The second division was commanded by King Philip 
hiniself, with his broad banner displayed, surrounded by 
six thousand men-at-arms and forty thousand foot. The 
blind old King of Bohemia was afterwards posted into 
this second division, as well as James, the titular King of 
Majorca. 

Lastly, the rear division of the French was led by the 
Earl of Savoy, with five thousand lances and twenty 
thousand foot. 

These large bodies appear to have been unequally di- 
t'ided, probably owing to the state of confusion into whicn 
ihe French army was undoubtedly thrown by their toe 
liasty advance, which rendered it difficult to transmit auii 
execute orders. 



BATTLE OF CRESSY. 8"* 

On tlie approach of the Genoese towards the English 
position, these strangers, who formed the vanguard of the 
French army, gave signs of fatigue, from marching three 
long leagues with their weighty cross-bows. When the 
word was given to " begin the battle, in the name of God 
and St. Dennis," the Italians answered by remonstrances, 
saying, they had more occasion for rest than to fight that 
day. This moved the resentment of Alencon, the com- 
mander of the division, who said with contempt, " A man 
has much help from these fellows, who thus fail him at 
the pinch !" The order for attack was therefore repeat- 
ed, and obeyed. 

Some singular appearances in the atmosphere now 
seemed to announce the great and bloody conflict which 
was about to take place upon the earth. A heavy thun- 
der-cloud darkened the sun like an eclipse, and before 
the storm burst, a vast number of crows and ravens came 
driving before the tempest, and swept over both armies. 
A short, but severe thunder-storm, with much lightning 
and heavy rain, suspended for half an hour, the joining 
of the battle, until the weather became fair, and the sun 
began once more to shine out, darting his rays on the 
backs of the English, and in the eyes of the French. 

The Genoese, now approaching towards the Prince of 
Wales's division, made a great leap and cry, thinking to 
daunt the English by the symptoms of instant attack ; 
but King Edward's archers, who were drawn up with 
their ranks crossed after the fashion of a he.rse, or harrow, 
so tliat the shot of the one might support the others, 
(like that of the combined squares of musketry in mod 
ern warfare,) remained firm and steady. The Genoese, 
a second time advanced forward, leapt and cried without 
making more impression upon the English than before ; 
a tliird time they advanced, shouted and leapt, and then 
began to use their cross-bows. But the English, who 
seemed only to wait for the actual commencement of hos- 
tilities, stepped each of them one pace forward, and shot 
their arrows so closely together, that it seemed as if it 
snowed. The volleys of the Genoese bolts were re- 



88 BATTLE OF ClltSSY. 

tui»ed with this incessant storm of arrows, and with so 
much interest; that the ItaHans became unable to keep 
iheir ground. Their strings also had been wetted by tiie 
late storm, while those of the English had been secured 
in cases which they carried for the purpose. Finally, 
tliere were eight or ten arrows returned, for every cross- 
bow shaft discharged. All these circumstances of advan- 
tage rendered tlie Genoese unable to withstand the 
English archers, so that that large body of Italians lost 
heart, and, cutting their strings, or throwing away their 
bows, (as an excuse for not continuing the conflict,) they 
rushed back in confusion upon the rest of the vanguard, 
and especially upon the men-at-arms, who were designed 
to have supported them. The confusion thus occasioned 
in the French army became inextricable, as the recoil of 
the cross-bowmen prevented the regular advance of the 
knights and squires, upon whom the ultimate fate of the 
day must necessarily depend, especially after the retreat 
of the Genoese. The King of France added to the 
confusion, by calling on the cavalry to advance to the 
charge, without any regard to the cross-bowmen, who, 
now a confused multitude of fugitives, lay straight in the 
way of their advance. " Slay me these peasants," said 
lie, "since thus they do but trouble us ;" and the French 
men-at-arms advanced at full gallop on the unfortunate 
Italians, many of whom were' thus trodden down and 
slain by their auxiliaries, while, at the same time, the 
ranks of the cavalry were disordered by riding over their 
own bowmen before they could leach the enemy. 

In the meantime, the English archers kept pouring 
their shafts, without an instant's intermission, as well upon 
the Genoese who fled, as the French men-at-arms who 
were endeavouring to advance, and augmented the dread- 
ful confusion which took place. Many of the bravest 
French knights lay stretched on the plain, who might 
have been made captive with ease ; but King Edward 
had strictly forbidden the taking of any prisoners during 
the action, lest the desire of securing them should be a 
temotation to his soldiers to quit their ranks. The groonjs, 



BATTLE OF CRESSY. 89 

therefore, and mere camp-followers of the Eiigl'sb, b.gd 
the task of despatching the fallen with their knives ; ard 
by these ignoble hands much noble and knightly blood 
was shed. 

Yet, notwithstanding the loss attending this iiorrible 
confusion, the courage of Alen^on, and the native bravery 
of the French cavaliers, impelled tl)em still forward. A 
part of them extricated themselves at length from the 
unfortunate Genoese, and pushed on along the line of 
English archers, by which they suffered great loss, until 
at length they arrived on their right flai-pic, where the 
Prince of Wales was placed, at the head of his men-at- 
arms. By these, the French were so roughly encoun- 
tered, that the greater part of them were beaten down 
and slain. But this victory was hardly won, before three 
other squadrons of French and Germans rushed on with 
such fury in the same direction, that they burst an opening 
for themselves through the archers, who had but imper- 
fect means of repelling horse, and dashed furiously up to 
the place where llie gallant prince was stationed. The 
Earl of Warwick now became alarmed ; for he concluded 
that the standards of the French king and his numerous 
army were following close upon the new comers. In 
this belief Warwick and Chandos sent to King Edward, 
requesting succour for his valiant son, when the follow- 
ing dialogue took place between the king and the mes- 
sengers. 

" Is my son," said Edward, " dead, wounded, or felled 
to the ground ?" 

" Not so, thank God," answered the messengers : " but 
he needs assistance." 

'' Nay, then," said King Edward, " he has no aid from 
me ; let him bear himself like a man, and this day show 
himself worthy of the knightiiood conferred on him ; in 
this battle he must vv^in his own spurs." 

In the meantime, a strong detachment of men-at-armS; 
despatched by the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, 
the commanders of the second division, had relieved 



90 BATTLE OF CRESSr. 

Prince Edward from his temporary embarrassment. And 
now the English archers opening in the centre, suffered 
their cavahy to Tush forward through the interval, and 
encountered the French men-at-arms, who were in total 
confusion. This was augmented by the fierce attack ol 
the English ; and the most experienced on the opposite 
side began to despair of the day. The King of France 
himself fought with the greatest valour ; was repeatedly 
wounded and dismounted, and would have died probably 
on the field, had not Lord John of Hainault led him off 
by force. Not more than sixty of his gallant army re- 
mained in attendance upon their sovereign, and with 
these he reached, after nightfall, the castle of Broye. 
When the warder demanded what or who he was, " 1 am," 
said the king, " the fortune of France ;" — a secret re- 
buke, perhaps, to those who termed him " the Happy," 
an epithet not very suitable to his present condition, and 
which his own example shows, is apt to prove inapplicable 
if conferred before death. 

The King of Majorca is generally said to have been 
among the fallen, and the slaughter among princes, counts, 
nobles, and men of rank, was without example. But the 
most remarkable death, among those of so many princes, 
was that of John, King of Bohemia, a monarch almost 
blind with age, and not very well qualified, therefore, to 
mix personally in the fight. When all seemed lost, the 
old man enquired after his son Charles, who was nowhere 
visible, having, in fact, been compelled to fly from the 
field. The father receiving no satisfaction concerning his 
son from the knights who attended on him, he said to 
them, " Sirs, ye are my knights and good liegemen, will 
ye conduct me so far forward into the battle, that I may 
strike one good stroke with my sword ?" 

To satisfy this wish, which his followers looked upon 
as the words of despair, four faithful knights agreed to 
share their master's death, rather than leave him to perish 
alone. The devoted attendants tied the old king's bridle 
reins to their own, and rushed with him into the middle 
of the fight, where, striking more good blov^e than *»ne, 



BATTLE OF CRESSY. 91 

iliey were all slain, and found there the neKt day, as they 
bad fallen, with their horse's reins tied tof;ether. 

Thus ended this celebrated battle. There lay upon 
the field of Cressy two kings, eleven high princes, eiglity 
bannerets, one thousand two hundred kaights, and more 
than thirty thousand private soldiers. 

The meeting of Edward and his son took place by 
torchlight, after the battle was over. " Well have you won 
your spurs !" said the brave king ; " persevere in the 
career which you have opened, and you will become the 
brightest honour of the noble kingdom of which you are 
the worthy heir." 

The battle of Cressy was one of the greatest victories 
ever gained by a King of England, and Edward prepared 
to avail himself of it, in a manner which should produce 
some permanent advantage. 



92 RESLfLT OF EDWARd's VICTORY. 



CHAPTER V. 

tldicard resolves to secure a permanent footing in France, 
by making himself Master of Calais — Siege of Calait, 
— War in Brctagne — Siege of Roche-d^Arien — Anx' 
iety of the tioo Monarchs, Edward and Philip, to 
obtain the Alliance of the Flemings — The People of 
Flanders favourable to Edward, and their Earl to 
Philip — Attempt of Philip to raise the siege of Calais 
— it fails, and the citizens a>-e compelled to treat for a 
Surrender — JVoble conduct of Eustace de Saint Pierre, 
and five other Burgesses, who, in order to save their 
Fellow Townsmen, deliver themselves up to Edward — 
they are ordered for Execution by him, but saved, by 
the intercession of his (^ueen, Philippa — Measures of 
Edward, for securing possession of Calais — Sir Em- 
eric of Pavia, Seneschal of the Castle of Calais for 
the English King, treats with Sir Geoffrey Charny 
to betray the place to the French for a sum of money 
— his Treachery discovered, whereupon he makes his 
peace with Edward, by undertaking to betray Sir 
Geoffrey ; and on that Knight coming to receive pos- 
session of ihe Castle, Sir Emeric takes payment of 
the money agreed upon, and delivers Sir_ Geoffrey to 
an Ambuscade of the English under Sir Walter 
Manny, by whom the French Party are defeated, and 
their Leader, Sir Geoffrey taken Prisoner — Edivard's 
treatment of the Prisoners — Pestilence rages in France 
and England — Submission of Godfrey of Ilarcourt 
to the French King — Death of Philip. 

The result which Edward promised liimself from his 
great victory, was, in fact, the opportunity of carrying 
into effectual execution the plan of Godfrey of Harcoiivt. 
by obtaining a firm footing in Normandy. Spoil and 
havoc had hitherto seemed his only object ; but it was his 



DEFKAT OF THE SCOITI&U KING 93 

secret plan to attain some permanent possession in the 
province as near England as possible, so as to enable hini 
lo attempt future conquests in France. For this purpose, 
he resolved to avail himself of his victory, which he 
knew must long disable Philip from taking the field, to 
lay siege to Calais, a seaport rich and strongly fortified 
being immediately opposite to the coast of England, from 
whicli it is scarcely fourteen miles distant. It was clear 
tliat if the English should obtain possession of this phice. 
the flat and swampy country around Calais would pei-mit 
them easily to fortify it ; and its vicinity to England, and 
the superiority of her naval power, would always altbrd 
means of relieving it when besieged. King Edward, 
therefore, sat down before Calais with his large army, 
shortly after the battle of Cressy, and proceeded, by 
every means in his power, to hasten tlie siege. 

Philip of France, in the meantime, did all he could to 
obtain the means of recovering from the disaster of 
Cressy. He summoned from Gascony his son, the Duke 
of Normandy, who was engaged there with a considerable 
body of forces, partly in the siege of Aguillon, partly in 
making head against the Earl of Lancastei-, formei'ly Earl 
of Derby, who had found him employment for two cam- 
paigns. The retreat of the Duke of Normandy, in con- 
formity with tire orders of Philip, left the w'est of France 
much at the conmiand of this noble earl, wliose soldiers 
were so much sated with spoil, that they hardly valued 
the richest merchandise, but were only desirous of gold, 
silver, or such feathers as were then worn by soldiers in 
their helmets. 

While Philip, in this emergency of his bad fortune^ 
thus abandoned a part of his dominions to save the rest, 
he endeavoured, by every argument in his power, and 
narticularly by advancing large sums of money, to prevail 
upon the Scottish nation, and their king, David 11., to 
declare war against England, by which means he hoped 
ihat Edward might be disturbed in his siege of Calais. 
The Scottish king and nation did, accordingly, unfortu- 
natelv take arms, and began a war which was terminated 
9Q1 



94 SIEGE OF ROCHE-d'aRIEN, 

by the bailie of Neville's Cross, near Durbam, In which 
tJiey sustained a formidable defeat, and their king,, David, 
was made prisoner. (October 17, A. D. 1346.) 

The siege of Calais still continued, the French making 
many desperate attempts to relieve it, and particularly by 
sending in provisions by sea. The low and swampy sit- 
uation of llie grounds around the town exposed the be- 
siegers to great loss by sickness and disease ; and the 
garrison of Calais did not omit to make many sallies 
which v.'ere partially successful. 

RJeantime, the war in Bretagne still raged, betw.-xt the 
contending parties of Blois and De Monifort. A noble 
knigiit named Sir Thomas Dagworth, was created by 
Edward general of the English auxiliary forces in that 
province, and carried over considerable succours to the 
valiant Countess of JMontfort, who still maintained the 
war there m the name of her son. 

Sir Charles de Blois, who claimed this duchy by the 
decision of the King of France, assembled among his 
partisans in Bretagne a very considerable force, amounting 
to no less tlian sixteen hundred men-at-arms, with a pro 
porlional number of cross-bows and infantry, and some 
formidable military engines ; with this force he besieged 
a fortress, called Roche-d'Arien, which had lately been 
taken by the English. The captain of the garrison^ 
whose wife was at the time indisposed, was so alarmed at 
the effect of the engines, that he offered to deliver up the 
castle upon easy terms, which Sir Charles de Blois was 
unfortunate enough to refuse. In the meantime. Sir 
Thomas Dagworth formed the resolution of relieving the 
garrison of Roche-d'Arien. He united his own forces 
with those of the Countess of Montfort, who were com- 
manded by a good knight, called Tanguy de Chatel. In 
their first attempt on the French, who lay before Roche- 
d'Arien, the E':glish and Bretons were defeated ; but 
having, by the encouragement of Sir Thomas Dagworth 
«nd of a Breton knight, called Garnier de Cadoudel, re- 
solved to renew ihe enterprise, they made a second attack 
on the ensuing evening, when the victory of the French 



Philip's efforts to raise an army. 96 

niignt be supposed to render them secure and unguarded. 
In this unexpected attempt their success was complete. 
The French were surprised and totally defeated, and their 
general, Charles de Blois, became prisoner to his female 
antagonist, Jane de Wontfort. 

A similar heroine arose, however, in the faniliy of 
Charles de Blois. His wife, a lady of a lofty spirit, un- 
dertook to maintain the war, which would otherwise have 
terminated on her husband's captivity. 

In the meantime, the two contending monarchs were 
not idle. King Philip, who had already held a parlia- 
ment, in which he preva'iled upon his peers and liege 
vassals to lend him their utmost assistance, was employed 
in levying a strong army, with which he proposed to 
compel Edward to raise the siege of Calais, (A. D. 
1347.) He used his utmost efforts to recover from an- 
cient receivers and tax-gatherers the sums which they 
had not accounted for. Heavy assessments were also 
imposed as well upon the clergy as upon the laity, and 
great rigour was manifested in the mode of recovering pay- 
ment. Philip even demanded from the monks of St. 
Dennis a crucifix of massive gold, being a treasure be- 
stowed by the devotion of his predecessors. To this, 
how'ever, the monks replied, that " the crucifix could not 
be taken away, or converted to a secular use, without in- 
evitable danger to the souls of all parties concerned ;" 
with which answer, even in the urgency of his necessity, 
be was obliged to remain satisfied. 

The friendship of the Fletnings was of equal impor- 
tance to both kings at this momentous crisis ; in which 
country the affections of the prince and of the people 
remained divided as before. The free towns and their 
citizens were strongly inclined to England, and had set- 
tled that their young lord should wed the daughter of 
Edward HI., the beautiful Lady Isabel of England. But 
the young earl himself objected to this match, and was 
inclined to the alliance of France, the rather that his 
father, a fait.iful confederate and vassal of Philip of Va- 
lois, had fa.len in his quarrel at the battle of Cre'jsy 



96 SIEGE or CALAIS. 

The rude Fleniinos, incensed to find their prince averse 
to the policy which they recomiuended, laid violent hands 
on his person, and assured him he shoald not obtain his 
liberty till he consented to ally himself with England, 
and marry the Princess Isabel. The young earl, finding 
himself so roughly handled by his siibjects, resolved tc 
dissemble his sentiments, and carried his acquiescence so 
far as to go to King Edward's camj) before Calais, with 
a party of Flemish citizens, wiio seemed to act as liis 
tutors, and whose will he in no shape contradicted. He 
was well received by Edward,, who even condescended 
to apologise for the death of his father, as an accident out 
of his power to prevent. Thus the young earl found 
himself in high favour with the English monarch, and 
paid his addresses to the Princess Isabel, with the same 
attention as if he had been serious in his courtship. In 
private, however, he meditated his flight, and being in- 
dulged with permission to follow the sport of hawking, 
he availed himself of an opportunity, while apparently 
engaged in it, to make his escape by the speed of his 
horse, and took refuge at the court of France, where his 
presence was cordially welcomed by King Philip. 

While these things were passing, the natives of Calais 
were reduced to the last extremity. They despatched a 
messenger by sea with letters to King Philip, saying, 
that his good people of Calais, having eaten their horses, 
dogs, and rats, had nothing left to subsist upon unless 
they fed upon each other ; wherefore they conjured their 
king to succour them, otherwise the town must be cer- 
tainly lost. The vessel bearing these letters was taken 
by the English, and King Edward forwarded the missives 
to the French king, after having perused their contents, 
and superscribed them with a taunting endorsation, ask- 
ing, " Why he came not to rescue his people of Calais, 
that were so distressed for his sake ?" Philip needed no 
incentive either from friend or enemy, having assembled 
an army of a hundred thousand men, with the sole pur 
pose of relieving Calais, 

On the other hard, King Edward, considering the ex 



SIEGE OF CALAIS. 97 

treme importance of the place, and the trouble, expense, 
and loss, which it had cost hiin to bring it to its present 
reduced state, was determined that no effort of tlie King 
of France should avail for its relief. For this purpose 
ho strongly fortified the approaches to Calais on every 
point, so as to make it impossible for King Philip to draw 
near the place, or annoy the besiegers, either by an ad- 
vance along the sea-shore or by the high-road. These 
were the only two roads practicable to arn)ed forces, as 
all the rest of the grounds in the vicinity of Calais were 
swampy marshes, where troops could not act. 

Against the approach along the sea-shore Edward had 
placed his ships, well suppliel with artillery, and he had 
besides strongly fortified tho shore. Similar defences 
were constructed on the causeway, which approached the 
town by the bridge of Neuillet. 

When the King of France, therefore, with his immense 
host, approached the neighbourhood of Calais, he had 
the mortification to find that he could not, without the 
extremity of imprudence, attempt to enter the town either 
by the highway or by the shore, and to pass through the 
marshes was altogether impossible ; after displaying there- 
fore his great army at a place called Sangate, in sight of 
Calais and its besiegers, King Philip found himself en- 
tirely cut off from entering the place, and was compelled 
to withdraw without fighting. He endeavoured to rouse 
the pride of Edward by a letter, defying him to leave 
his fortifications, and fight in a fair field. Edward re- 
plied that " he took no counsel from an adversary ; that 
he had been before Calais for more than a year, and had 
reduced the place to a state of extremity ; that he would 
not quit the advantage which he had gained ; and if 
Philip wished a passage into the town, he might seek it 
as he best could, since he was to expect no assistance 
from bin]." 

The hopes of the people of Calais bad been at first 
strongly excited, when they beheld from their towers the 
nimifrous forces of France advancinji to their relief. 



98 SIEGE OF CALAIS. 

7.'he first day, therefore, tliey intimated their confidence 
of assistance by decorating tlieir walls with banners, and 
for the same purpose lighted large bonfires, and sounded 
all their martial instruments of music, attended with loud 
shouts. On the second night, the bonfires were fewer, 
and the shouts less cheerful, than before. On the third 
night, the towers showed a decaying fire — emblem of ex- 
piring hope — and the acclamations of mirth and joy were 
changed into screams and groans, which seemed designed 
to attract pity. On the following morning, all the ban- 
ners on the principal towers were lowered, save the ban- 
ner of France, which still floated from its summit. 

But when the inhabitants of Calais beheld at length 
the pennons of King Philip's host retiring from their view, 
they knew all hopes of those succours, which they had 
waited for so anxiously and vainly, were at an end. 
They had suffered such extremities, that human nature 
could endure no longer ; and, to intimate that resistance 
was at an end, they lowered the banner of France, and 
displayed that of England in its place. But they had to 
learn that, their obstinacy had offended King Edward 
more than either their gallantry or their reluctant sub- 
mission could atone for. He gave them presently to 
understand, that he would not receive their surrender, 
unless they yielded infplicitly to his mercy, without any 
capitulation either for their lives or property. When this 
severity was objected to even by his own commanders, 
Edward would agree to show no farther favour than to 
the following extent. He demanded that six of the 
chief burgesses of the town should come before him 
bareheaded, barefooted, and in their shirts, having halters 
around their necks, bearing the keys of the town and 
castle of Calais, which were to be humbly surrendered 
to him. These six men were to submit to the king's 
pleasure, how severe soever that might be, without 
reservs'.tion even of life ; and in consideration of their 
doing so, the stern conqueror reluctantly promised that 
the rest of the citizens of Calais should have mercy. 

These conditions were sent to the town, and read be- 



£IJSTAf E UE SAINT PIERRE. 99 

fore the asscrabjcd citizens. The tidings were foiloued 
by a general lamentation, which, the difficuhy of fincimg 
men wiih'ng to take upon themselves tliis strange sub- 
mission considered, was not to be wondered at. After 
some deliberation, a burgess, the most substantial in the 
city, jiddressed the assembly. His name, Eustace de 
Saint Pierre, ought never to be forgotten while disinter- 
ested patriotism is held valuable among mankind. " He 
that shall contribute to save this fair town from sack and 
spoil," said this gallant man, " though at the price of his 
own blood, shall doubtless deserve well of God and of 
his country. I will be one who will offer my head to 
the King of England, as a ransom for the town of Calais." 
The greater part of the assembly were moved by this 
speecli to tears and exclamations of gratitude. Five 
other burgesses caught emulation from the noble devotion 
of Eustace de Saint Pierre, and offered to partake with 
him the honourable peril which he had incurred. Tiiey 
quickly put themselves into the humiliating attire required 
by Edward, but which, assumed in such a cause, was 
more honourable than tlie robes of the Garter, which 
that king had lately instituted. In their shirts, bare- 
footed, and with the halter around their necks, they were 
ronducted before Edward, to whom they submitted 
themselves for disposal, as the stipulated ransom for the 
pardon of their fellow-citizens. The king, looking on 
them witli indignation, upbraided them with the losses he 
had sustained through their obstinacy, and commanded 
them to be presently beheaded. Sir Walter Manny, and 
the bravest English nobles and warriors, interfered to pre- 
vent the execution, and even the Prince of Wales inter- 
ceded for their lives in vain. 

The Queen Philippa was the last resource of these 
unfoitimate men. She had recently joined her husband's 
camp, in circumstances equally flattering to Edward as a 
monarch, and interesting to him as a husband. It wa3 
during her regency in En.glatid that tl;e great victory of 
Neville's Cross had been obtained ; and it was under her 
auspices that David 11. of Scotland was made prisoner. 



100 q,UEEN PHILIPPA. 

The queen was also at this time with chi'd, and thus in 
every respect entitled to the highest regard of lier royal 
husband. When she saw that Edward would beluoved 
with no less entreaty than her own, she rose haslily from 
her seat, and kneeled before the king, saying, with many 
tears. " Ah ! ray lord and husband, have I not a riglit tc 
ask a boon of you, having come over the sea, through so 
many dangers, that I might wait upon you ? therefore, 
let me now pray you, in honour of our blessed Redeemer, 
and for love of me, that you would take pity upon these 
six prisoners !" 

Edward looked doubtfully upon the queen, and seemed 
to hesitate for a space, but said at length, " Ah, madam. 
I could well wish you had been elsevvliere this day ; yel 
how can I deny any boon which you ask of me ? Take 
these men, and dispose of tliem as you will." 

The gracious queen, rejoiced at having prevailed in hei 
suit, and having changed the dishonourable attire of the 
burgesses for new clothing, gave each of them six nobles, 
for inmiediate use, and caused them to be safely con- 
veyed through the English host, and set at liberty. 

Edward 111. had no sooner obtained possession of 
Calais, than he studied to secure it by fortifications and 
otherwise, but particularly endeavoured, by internal chan- 
ges among its inhabitants, to render it in future an impor- 
tant and permanent possession of the crown of England. 
For this purpose, he dispossessed the inhabitants of 
Calais, (who were, indeed, much reduced in numbers,) 
of their houses and property within the town, and con- 
ferred their possessions upon Englishmen boi'n. The 
new inhabitants whom he established in the town were 
substantial citizens from, London, and a great number of 
countrymen from the neiglibouring county of Kent, Ir 
whom he assigned the lands and tenements of the French. 
Calais became from that period, until the reiun of Philip 
and Mary, in all respects a colony of England. The 
king also fortified the castle and the town with additional 
works. Lastly, before he set sail to return to England; 
Edviard agreed to a truce with France, which lasted from 



EDWARD FORTIFIES CALAIS. 101 

1317. until the year 1355, though not without infractions 
on both sides. 

We must not here end the history of Calais, without 
adverting to some circumstances winch happened sliortly 
afler its capture, and are highly descriptive of the man- 
ners of the time. 

In supplying the place with a new garrison, Edward 
had not omitted to choose valiant officers, and such as he 
thought men worthy of trust. These were the Lord 
John Montgomery, as governor of the town, and, as 
seneschal of tlie castle which conmianded the place, a 
Lombard knight, named Emeric of Pavia. This last 
officer was a favourite of Edward, in whose court he had 
been educated from childhood, but was infected with the 
vice of avarice, to which his countrymen were esteemed 
to be generally addicted. At the same time when Edward 
left Calais under such custody, a wise and valiant French 
lord, called Sir Geoffrey de Charny, acted as lieutenant 
for the French king, to defend his frontiers, near Saint 
0(ners, and watch the garrison of the new English ac- 
quisition. This officer, who was high in his master's 
confidence, knew the failing of the Lombard governor, 
and tempted him, by offering the sum of twenty thousand 
gold crowns, to deliver up to him the caslle of Calais. 
To this treacherous proposition, Emeric of Pavia acced- 
ed, and took a solemn oath to discharge faitliudly his 
part of the bargain. This negotiation reached the ears 
of King Edward, wiio sent for the Lombard to come to 
see him in England, and, when Sir Emeric arrived there, 
took a private opportunity to charge him with having sold 
to the French tlie castle of Calais, the dearest thing he 
had on earth, excepting his wife and children. Emeric 
confessed the accusation, but returned a mercantile an- 
swer, th.at his bargain with Sir Geoffrey de Charny might 
as )et easily be broken, since he had received no part of 
the stipulated price. Edward, who had sonje regard, as 
we have said, for this venal knight, forgave him the trea- 
son viihich he had meditated, on condition that he should 
15* 



lOiJ SUt EMKRIC OF PAVIA, 

ensnare the Lombard to go on vAih his bargain^ and thai 
he should infonu Jihii of the time that he and Sir Geof- 
frey de Charny should finally fix upon for the surrender, 
t^dward also guve his avaricious favourite permission to 
get as much money as he could from Sir Geoffrey de 
Charny, provided he betrayed every particular of the 
negoiiation to the king himself, and kept the whole mat- 
ter a secret irom others. 

Sir Emeric thus secured against the consequences of 
the treason, and resolved once more to be true to his in- 
dulgent muster, returned to Calais, and, renewing his in- 
tercourse with Sir Geoffrey de Charny, fixed on the last 
night of December, 1348, as the term for executing their 
secret treaty for the surrender of the castle. King Ed- 
vi'ard thus enabled to counteract the French stratagem, 
embarked very secretly with eight hundred choice men- 
at-arms, and a thousand archers, with whom he landed 
privately, and introduced them into the caslle of Calais. 
He then called to him the celebrated Sir Walter Manny, 
and said, " Sir Knight, I mean to grace you with the 
honour of this night's enterprise, and 1 and my son will 
fight under your banner." 

In the meantime. Sir Geoffrey of Charny, contriver of 
this enterprise, arrived at Neuillet Bridge, on the cause- 
way, or high road to Calais, with a part of his force, and 
there waited till the rest joined him. He then commu- 
nicated with Emenc of Pavia, by messengers sent to the 
citadel ; and, learning that the time for his admission into 
the castle was approaching, he despatched twelve knights, 
and a hundred men-at-arms, having with them the money 
agreed upon, while he himself halted nigh to the nearest 
city-gate with the rest of his company. He left also a 
small rear-guard on the bridge at Neuillet. The captain 
of the French advanced guard moved on towards the cas- 
de, and met with the double traitor, Emeric, at the pos- 
tern of the fortress, which he kept open, as if to admit 
the French. They delivered to him the stipulated sum Ir? 
French crowns. Sir Emeric took the money, and cast it 
into a che<5t savintr. " We have other work to do than to 



AND SIR GEOFFREY OF CHARNT 103 

count money at present. You shall enter the donjon, 
gentlemen, and then you are masters of the castle." But 
the French had no sooner entered at the postern L>f the 
castle, thus opened to them, than tliey were assailed in 
front, flank, and rear, by the English, who lay ready for 
them witliin the castle, and exclaimed, " Manny ! Manny! 
To the rescue ! What ! thouglit a handful of Frenchmen 
to take the castle of Calais !" The French men-at-arms, 
surprised and outnumbered, rendered themselves prison- 
ers, and were thrust into the donjon, not as conquerors, 
but prisoners, while the victors prepared to sally from the 
gates upon Sir Geoffiey de Charny and his party, the 
rear of whom held their post at the bridge of Neuillet, 
while the main body had advanced to the Boulogne gate 
of the town, expecting to be speedily called to the sup- 
port of their advanced guard, who they calculated ought 
to be by this time in possession of the castle. 

These were, however, at a loss to account for the delay 
of the expected surrender, and their commander was ex- 
claiming impatiently, " Except this Lombard admit us 
hastily, we are like to starve here with cold." — " Oh. 
sir," said a French knight of his company, " you must 
remember that the Lombards are a shrewd and suspicious 
people. I warrant me Sir Emeric of Pavia is counting 
his crowns, and looking that they be all of just weight." 
As Sir Geoffrey and his party spoke thus among them- 
selves, the Boulogne gate of Calais, to which they had 
approached, suddenly opened, and a body of men-at-arms 
issued forth in good order ; most of them were dismount- 
ed, and they were attended by three hundred archers. 
The French, from this apparition, and the cry of" Manny, 
to the rescue !" instaptly knew that they were betrayed ; 
but, as the causeway on which they stood was narrow, Sir 
Geoffrey Charny exclaimed aloud, " Gentlemen, if we 
turn our backs, we are certainly lost ; dismount speedily, 
and cut your spears to the length of five feet, for fightir g 
upon foot." The English, hearing these words, replied, 
" Well said, by Saint George ! shame on them that shall 
first turn their backs !" Edward, who was himself engaged 



104 EUWARD ENTERTAINS HIS PRISONERS. 

'n \h skimtiish, though witliout any marks of ro}a! di?. 
linciion, despatched six banners and three hundred arch- 
ers on liorseback, who by a ciicuitous route, reached ilie 
bridge ofNeuillet, where the French had left a rear-guard, 
as already noticed. 

At tills last place, the battle waxed very hot ; but the 
Frenchmen were taken at great disadvantage, and, after 
a stout resistance, were compelled to retreat. In the 
meantime a furious contest was continued upon the cause- 
way nearer to the town, between the troops of Sir Geof- 
frey Charny and those under Manny. King Edward was 
distinguislied amid the crowd of combatants by the ex- 
clamations of" Ha, Saint George ! Ha, Saint Edward !" 
with which he accompanied every stroke of his two- 
handed sword, seeking to niatch himself with the stoutest 
antagonist whom the affray afforded. He had the luck 
to encounter Eustace de Ribeaumont, one of the strona;est 
men and best knights who then lived. This distinguislied 
French champion gave the English monarch so stout a 
meeting, that he more than once nearly forced him upon 
liis knees. Nor was it until the increasing numbers of 
the English, who sallied from the town to the assistance 
of their friends, rendered longer defence on the French 
part unavailing, that Ribeaumont resigned his weapon to 
the antagonist whom he only knew as a brave warrior, 
and said the fatal words, " Sir Knight, I surrender myself 
— rescue, or no rescue !" The French lost in this skir- 
mish the greater part of the men whom Sir Geoffrey 
Cliarny had brought towards Calais, except some who 
had not alighted from their horses, and had therefore the 
means of escape ; the rest were either slain or made 
prisoners. 

King Edward caused his principal officers and prisoners 
to be feasted at supper that same night, in a great hall, 
vi'here he placed himself at the head of a royal table. 
H(ii-e the king sat alone and in state, while the Prince, his 
son, and the peers of England, served during the first 
course ; but after this sacrifice to ceremony, the guests 
were arranned without farther distinction at the same 



EDWARD ENTERTAINS HIS PRISONERS 105 

board. Edward walked up and down, bare-Iicaded, ex- 
ceplhig a circle of gold, and a chaplet of pearls ot" greai 
value, around his brows, and passed in this manner round 
the table, and conversed freely with his captives. On ap- 
proaching Sir Geollrey Charny, the contriver of the en- 
terprise, he said, with some signs of displeasure, " 1 owe 
you bat little thanks. Sir Knight, who would have stolen 
fi'om me by night what 1 won in broad day. You are a 
better bargain-maker than I, when you would have pur- 
chased Calais for twenty thousand crowns ; but, God be 
praised, you have missed your aim." The I^ord of Char- 
ny, who was much wounded, remained silent and some- 
wliat abashed, and Edward passed on to the other guests, 
to whom he spoke with nuich condescension and polite- 
ness. But it was upon Sir Eustace de Uibeaumont that 
Edward conferred the highest praises, styling him the 
most valiant and coiu'ageous knight in that skirmish. 
*• Nor did I ever," said the king, " find a man who gave 
me so much to do, body to body, as you have done this 
night. Wlierefore, I adjudge to you this chaplet, as the 
prize of the tournament," taking off the string of pearls 
wliich he wore. " I pray you to wear it for my sake at 
all festivals, and declare unto the ladies that it was given 
to you by Edward of England, as a testimony of your 
valour. I discl)arge you also of any ransom, and you 
are [vee to depart to-morrow, if sucli be your pleasure." 

]n this strange anecdote, you may recognise some pro- 
ceedings, wliich, had such taken place in our days, on 
the part of a great general and great monarch, would 
have necessarily been considered imprudent and incon- 
siderate. There was no great wisdom certainly in trust- 
ing to the double treachery of Emeric of Pavia, 'and 
there was great rashness in a monarch like Edward ven- 
turing his person, witliout any distinction of "his rank, in 
the nocturnal confusion of so desperate a skirmish. 

To encounter such dangers, however, was the proud- 
est boast of chivalry ; and a monarch, however wise and 
sagacious, was expected to court the most desperate risks 
of war, if he expected the praise of an accomplishea 



106 PESTILENCE RAGES. 

knight, which was then held the highest that a man 
could aspire to, how eminent soever his hereditarj lauic. 
Ii is not less worth your notice, how generously Edward 
III. rewarded the French knight who had struck Inra 
down in battle, although the same monarch could shortly 
before hardly be induced to pardon the six burgesses of 
Calais, whose sole oflence was, the honourable discharge 
of their duty to their king and country, and the defence 
of their town. This is one instance among many, that it 
was reckoned presumption on the part of citizens or pea- 
sants, to meddle with martial affairs, which were accounted 
the proper business of the nobility and gentry, and their 
followers. 

It is also remarkable, that the attempt upon Calais 
might have been made a legitimate pretext for breaking 
off the truce, on tlie part of the King of England. But 
as Geoffi'ey de Charny pretended to no authority from the 
French king, and as Philip disclaimed the attempt, Ed- 
ward III. was well disposed to pass it over. 

The evils of these continued wars, though carried on 
with great increase to the glory of individuals, were at- 
tended with so much misery to both kingdoms, that they 
probably never endured a greater state of wretchedness 
In France, a pestilential disorder of a dangerous kind 
completed what had been commenced by want and bad 
nourishment. The populace died in great numbers, and 
those who remained entertained a natural horror o|^ tlie 
feudal oppressors under whom they suffered sucli unpitied 
misery. This pestilence swept over not only the greater 
part of Christendom, but Africa, and Asia itself, and 
reached England, where it was equally fatal. It fell 
most heavily on the poorer part of the people ; and of 
the inferior clergy so Jiiany died, that very many churches 
were without either parson or curate to serve the cure. 
Besides this disastrous scourge, the King of England, 
although his parliament had been repeatedly libei'al in 
voting him supplies of money, was cfflicted by the embar- 
rassment of his financies. It was at a very extravagant cost 
that he had been able to support these wars of France, 



SIR EMERIC OF PAVIA PUT TO DEATH. 1 01 

and the subsidies granted to him by his English subjects 
were speedily exhausted in the expenses which attended 
the prosecution of hostilities in a foreign country, and the 
])ay of many auxiliary troops. The large spoil made by 
llie English soldiers, contributed, as usual, to debauch the 
morals of the people, and accustom them to extravagance 
and unbounded expense. 

These national evils had at least one good effect ; they 
restrained the Kings of France and England from renew- 
ing the war. Tlie attempt, therefore, upon Calais passed 
over without notice. 

It does not appear, however, that the treacherous gov- 
ernor, Emeric of Pavia, ever recovered the entire good 
opinion of the king. He was deprived of the govern- 
ment of the castle, the very day after the skirmish ; and, 
although he remained in the service of the English king, 
he never appears to have regained his confidence. He 
was retained in his active service, however, took posses- 
sion, by stratagem, of the fortress of Guines, near to Ca- 
lais, and attempted also to surprise Saint Omers. In this 
last enterprise. Sir Emeric was defeated and made prison- 
er by his old acquaintance, Sir Geoffrey Charny, who 
availed himself of the opportunity to be revenged of his 
furiTier treachery. He caused the Lombard to be put to 
death with all the dishonours of degradation, command- 
ing his spurs to be hacked from his heels, as fi'om those 
of one unworthy of the honour of knighthood, and his 
body to be torn to pieces by wild horses drawing in dif- 
ferent directions ; a cruel, yet not undeserved punishment, 
for the perfidious part he had acted at the attempt upon 
Calais. 

But this last event took place after some others thai 
were of greater importance. One of these was the sub- 
mission made by Godfrey of Harcourt, the counsellor of 
Edward III., to his native kinsman and king, Philip of 
France. Tlie penitent threw himself at that monarch's, 
feet, with a towel twisted round his neck, in the form of 
a halter, confessing the retnorse which he felt for having 
been a principal cause of the defeat of Cressy, and re- 



108 DEATH OF PHILIP THE FORTLTNATE. 

grelting tliat he should have added to the number of 
rhose French princes of the blood-royal who -had sc 
often contributed to the misfortunes of ilieir native coun- 
try. Philip, though subject to violent passion, was 
placable upon submission, and forgave a penitent against 
whom he had several real subjects of ofience. Their 
reconciliation did not, however, last long. 

Shortly afterwards, the King of France united the 
county of Dauphiny to the crown, by marrying his 
grandson Charles to the heiress of that province. The 
dauphin himself retired from the world, and became a 
monk ; and Charles, the husband of Joan, was the first 
French prince who bore the title of dauphin, afterwards 
selected as that of the successor to the crown of France. 
Charles is often termed Duke of Normandy, a county 
which his father John possessed until he acceded to the 
crown. In 1349, Philip of Valois himself wedded the 
Princess Blanche, sister of the King of Navarre ; but he 
did not long survive this union, having died in the twenty- 
third year of his reign, and the fifty-seventh of his age. 
(A. D. 1350.) 

Philip of Valois was hated by the nobility, on account 
of the frequent encroachments which he made on tlieir 
privileges, and for the readiness with which he subjected 
many of tlieir number to capital punisliment. lie ob- 
tained, at the commencement of his reign, the title of the 
Fortunate, because, although three predecessors stood 
between him and the throne, he had nevertheless the 
good luck to obtain possession of it ; but, as happened to 
other princes, the long course of unsuccessful w^ar in 
which he was engatred, ard the miseries undergone durinij 
his reign, would better have entitled him to the surname 
of the Unhappy. 



ACCESSION OF JOHxN THE GOOD. 109 



CHAPTER VI. 

/iccesfiion of John the Good — Truce with England vio- 
latt'.d, tut renewed — Intrigues of Charles ■ King o/ 
JVavarre — Charles assassinates the Constable of 
France, and extorts his pardon from the King — Ed- 
ward and his son, the Black Prince, invade France, 
and ravage the Country — the Black Prince xvinters at 
Bourdeaux — Kitig John assembles a large army, 
marches into Poitou, and comes up with the English 
encamped at Maupertuis, within two leagues oj 
Poictiers — Battle of Poictiers — King John taken 
Prisoner — His reception by the Black Prince — Re- 
turn of the Prince, with his Prisoner, to England. 

John, Duke of Normandy, ascended the throne on 
the death of l)is father, Phihp of Valois. He had at- 
tained the mature age of fifty, had commanded armies 
with reputation, had acquired character for both courage 
an"d conduct, and was, in every respect, a more iiopeful 
prince than his predecessor. 

Yet King Jolin, of France, though distinguished by the 
Battering surname of tlie Good, early evinced a course of 
severity, wliich occasioned much unpopularity. At a 
solemn festival at Paris, immediately after his coronation, 
he caused to be arrested Rodolph de Brienne, Count of 
Y<w and of Guines, and Constable of France, who was 
accused of wishing to let tlie English monarch have pos- 
session of his county of Guines, adjacent to the town of 
Calais. The unfortunate constable was arrested, and be- 
headed, in presence of the lords of the council, after 
three days' confinement, and without any form of trial • 
an execution wliich greatly awakened the fears and sus- 
picioriis of the nobility, respecting the new king. 

In the yeai 1349, the English commander in Bretagne, 
963 



I 10 DISTURBED rXATE OF FRANCE. 

Sir Thomas Dagworth, fell into an ambuscade, said to 
consist of banditti, by whom he was slain, in violation of 
the truce. In resentment of this slaughter, Henry Plan- 
tagenet, already celebrated under the titles of Lancaster 
and Derby, to which that of Earl of Lincoln was now 
added, was sent as Edward's lieutenant-general into Bre- 
lagne, with an army which his reputation soon augmented 
to thirty thousand men. In the meantime, in contempt 
of the truce which still subsisted, constant skirmishes were 
fought between the French and English, wnich hovered 
between the character of hostile engagements, and of the 
tournaments which that age considered merely as martial 
recreations. In these stormy times, the various com- 
manders of garrisons made war upon each other, as they 
saw occasion or opportunity, without the king's positively 
either authorising or resenting their quarrels ; and in this 
manner much blood was spilt, of which neither prince 
was willing to acknowledge the blame. The Pope, Inno- 
cent XL, again used his intercession to prolong the truce, 
w^hich seemed of such uncertain character, and succeeded 
m his endeavours in 1353, although he was unable to 
bring the kingdoms to such a solid peace, as his holiness 
desired. 

About this time. King John and liis court were extreme- 
ly disturbed by the intrigues occasioned by his young 
kinsman, Charles, King of Navarre. This young prince, 
nearly connected Avith the French crown, his mother 
being a daughter of Louis X., called Hutin, possessed at 
once the most splendid and the most diabolical attributes. 
He was handsome, courageous, affable, liberal, and pop- 
ular in his address, and a person of great talents and in- 
genuity. Unfortunately, he added to these gorgeous 
qualities a turn for intrigue and chicane, together with an 
ambition altogether insatiable, and a disposition capable 
of carrying through the worst actions by the worst means. 
From this latter part of his character, he received from 
the French the name of Charles the Bad, or Charles the 
Wicked, which he appears abundantly to have deserved, 



INTRIGUES OF CHARLES OF NA/ARRE. II J 

since even the strong tie of his own interest couM not 
always restrain his love of mischief. (A. D. 1351.) 

On the arrival of this monarch at the court of John, he 
set up various pretensions to favour, both with the king 
and people of France, and rendered himself so agreeable 
at court, that he carried his point of marrying Joan, the 
daughter of the French monarch. He demanded certain 
places in Normandy ; and when the king, to elude his 
pertinacity, conferred that county upon Charles de la 
Cerda, his constable and favourite, the King of Navarre 
did not hesitate to assassinate that unfortunate officer, in 
his castle called De I'Aigle, in Normandy. Having com- 
mitted this atrocity, he afterwards boldly avowed the 
deed; put himself at the head of troops, and affected in- 
dependence ; treated with the English for their assistance; 
leagued together all the fiery and disaffected spirits of 
the court, that is to say, great part of the young nobility 
who frequented it, in opposition to the crown ; and threat- 
ened to create such confusion, that King John felt him- 
self under the necessity of treating with this dangerous 
young man, instead of bringing him to justice for his 
crimes. Charles of Navarre, however, refused to lay 
aside- his arnis, or come to court, unless upon stipulation 
for an absolute pardon for the death of the constable, 
great cessions in land, a large payment of money, and, 
above all, complete security that such terms should be 
kept with him, in case King John were disposed to grant 
them. 

John of France saw himself, by the necessity of his 
affairs, obliged to subscribe to these demands, which were 
rath.er dictated than preferred by his refractory vassal. He 
was even compelled to give up his second son to Charles 
of Navarre, as security that the promises given to that 
turbulent prince should be faithfully kept. After this, it 
was in vain that John desired to conceal his weakness 
under a pompous display, designed to show that the par- 
don of Navarre was not granted in virtue of a previous 
stipulation, but the result of the king's own free will. 

In March, 1355, (A. D.) this high offender came to 



112 THE BLACK PRINCE RAVAGES FRANCE. 

Paris in person, as had been previously agreed vtpon, and 
appeared before parliament, where the King was seated 
on the tribunal. Here Charles of Navarre made a formal 
speech, acknowledging his errors, and asking forgixeness, 
with some affectation of humility. The Duke of Bour- 
bon, then Constable of France, placed his hands upon 
those of the royal criminal, in symbol of arrest, and led 
him into another apartment, as if to execution. The 
Queens of France (of whom there were at that time three,) 
threw themselves at the feet of the monarch, to implore 
pardon for one so nearly connected with his family, and 
the king appeared reluctantly to grant what he dared not 
have refused for fear of retaliation on the prince, his son. 
It is probable that the whole ceremony had no effect, 
except that of incensing the King of Navarre, and irritat- 
ing his love of mischief, which he afterwards repeatedly 
displayed, to the great prejudice of the King and kingdom 
of France. 

In the meantime. King Edward, fully expecting that 
this discord between King John and Cliarles of Navarre 
would break into an open flame, made preparations to 
take advantage of it. For this purpose, he constituted 
the Black Prince, who obtained that celebrated name 
from the constant colour of his armour, his lieutenant in 
Gascony and Aquitaine, and sent him over with a consid- 
erable army, vvliich, by the number of troops there lev- 
ied, was augmented to about sixty thousand men. With 
this large force, the young Edward marched into the 
country of Toulouse, taking several towns, which he 
burnt, wasted and destroyed. But Charles of Navarre 
becoming for the present reconciled with the King of 
France, the Prince of Wales returned to Bourdeaux, after 
tiiese extensive ravages. 

His father King Edward was, on his part, no less activo 
in the desolation of France. While the Black Prince 
laid waste the southern ])rovinces of that country with 
fire and sword, the father landed at Calais, and marched 
from thence towards St. Omers, where King John lay al 
the head of a considerable army. The recollections of 



BATTLE OF POICTIERS. I 13 

Cressy, perhaps, made the King of France decline an en- 
gaijement ; so that King Edward, unable to brnig the 
French to action, returned to liis own country to advise 
with his Parliament, and make head against the Scottish 
nation, who, notwithstanding all their losses, were again 
In arms. It has been reasonably suggested, that injured 
pride and wounded feelings, the recollections of the dis- 
nonour .sustained at Cressy, and the hope of avenging the 
disgrace of that day, were more powerful with John of 
France than any reasons of sound policy, in inducing him to 
refuse the offers preferred by Rome for establishing peace 
between the countries. The scene of blood and devas- 
tation which all France presented, the ravages of tht 
pestilence, and the total silence of law and justice 
throughout a kingdom which strangers and robbers had 
in a manner partitioned amongst them, made the country 
at tliat time in every respect unfit to maintain a war with 
a powerful and active enemy. It was, however, the fate 
of King Jolm to rush without reflection upon dangers yet 
greater, and losses more disastrous, than those which had 
befallen his unfortunate father. A period now approach- 
ed much celebrated in English history. 

The Prince of Wales, who had spent the winter in re- 
cruiting his little army at Bourdeaux, resolved th.e next 
year to sally forth, to lay waste the country of the enirnV; 
as he had done the preceding summer. King John, on 
the other hand, having determined to intercept his perse- 
vering eneiDy, assembled the whole force of his kingdom, 
in number twenty thousand men-at-arms, headed by the 
king himself and his four sons, and most of the princes 
of the blood, together with the whole nobility and gentry 
of France, few of whom chose to stay at home, when 
called to attend the royal standard, under the pain of in- 
famy. Scotland sent him an auxiliary force of two 
thousand men-at-arms. With this overpowering army, 
tlje King of France marched into Poitou, where Prince 
Edward lay encamped at the village of Maupcrtuis, within 



114 BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 

two leagues of Poictiers, and resolved to engage him 
before h'^ could regain Bourdeaux. 

With .Tumbers so unequal, the Prince of Wales daic^d 
hardly attempt a retreat, in which he was likely to be 
destroyed by the enemy. He therefore took up a strong 
position, where the advantage of the ground might in 
some measure compensate for numerical inferiority. King 
.John, on the other hand, had at command the choice of 
fighting instantly, or of surrounding and blockading the 
prmce's army as they lay. But the same spirit of offend- 
ed pride which disposed the French king to continue 
the war, stimulated him to rush to instant battle. On 
the other hand, Prince Edward had tixed upon a place 
so well suited for defence, that it presented, in a great 
degree, the advantages of a fortress. His, army scarcely 
numbered the eighth part of that which was arrayed 
against him ; but perhaps it was, even for that very 
reason, more fit to occupy and defend a strong and limited 
position. 

Tliis memorable field was a gentle declivity, covered 
with vineyards, which could only be approached by one 
access of no great breadth, flanked by thickets and 
hedges. To add to the strength of tiie ground, the Eng- 
lish laboured hard at fortifying it, and disposed every 
thing so as to cover their ranks with trenches, in addition 
to the trees, bushes, and vineyards, by which it was natu- 
rally defended. Amidst these natural and artificial de- 
fences, and only accessible by this narrow and difficult 
pass, the English troops, about ten thousand men, were 
drawn up on the side of the gentle acclivity, with the 
good sense and judgment which, from his early days, had 
distinguished their eminent conunander. 

Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont had the honour to carry 
to King John of France an account of the P^nglish po- 
sition, which he thus described : "Sir, we have seen the 
enemy. By our guess, they amount to two thousand 
men-at-arms, four thousand archers, and fifteen hundred 
or two thousand other men ; which troops appear to j'I 
to form but one division. They are strongly posted, 



BATTLE or POICTIEIIS. 1 15 

wisely ordered, and their position is wellnigh inaccessi- 
ble. If yoii would attack them, there is but one passage, 
where four horsemen may ride abreast, which leads to 
the centre of their line. The hedges which flanic this 
access are lined with archers, and the English main body 
itself consists of dismounted men-at-arms, before whom 
a large body of archers are arranged in the form of a 
herse, or harrow. By this difficult passage alone you 
can approach the English position. Think, therefore, 
what is to be done." 

King John resolved, that, in such difficult circumstances, 
the attack must be made on foot. He commanded, 
therefore, Jiis men-at-arms to dismount, cast off their 
spurs, and cut their spears to the length of five feet, in 
order to do battle as inAintry. Three hundred men-at- 
arms alone were commanded to remain mounted, in order 
that their charge miffht bejiin the combat, break the 
archery, and make way for the columns of infintry ; 
and in this order King Jolin resolved to undertake the 
attack. 

The battle having been thus determined upon, a noble 
churchman, tlie Cardinal of Perigord, visited both the 
Frencli and Englisii armies, to incline tiiem to peace. 
The Prince, of Wales, being so greatly outnumbered, 
was not unwilling to listen to honourable terms ; but tlie 
King of France insisted that Edward and his principal 
lords should remain prisoners. '' I will never yield me 
prisoner," said Edward, " until I am taken sword in 
band." 

But before the battle took place, one or two circum- 
stances happened, higlily characteristic of the spirit of 
the tinies. 

It chanced that the celebrated John Cliandos was, on 
the morning before the action, reconnoitring the French 
host, while Lord Cleremont, a marshal of the French 
anny, pe/formed the same duty on the other side 
Tliese tv/o tcnights bore the same device, whicli was the 
Virgin Pvlary, surrounded by sunbeams. This was in 
those days a great offence ; and it was accordingly cha)- 



Ii6 BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 

"enged by Cleremont with these words : " How long is 
It. Cliandos, since you have taken it on you to bear niy 
device ?" 

" It is mine own," said Chandos : " at least it is mine 
as well as yours." 

" 1 deny tliat," said Cleremont ; " But you act after 
the fashion of you Englishmen, who have no ingenuity 
to devise your own appointments, but readily steal the 
invention of others." 

" Let us prove which has the right in the battle to- 
morrow," answered Chandos, " since to-day is truce, on 
account of the cardinal's negotiation." They parted 
thus upon terms of mutual defiance. 

On the evening of that same day, the Frenchmen dis- 
missed the Cardinal of Perigord from their host, and 
desired him to bring them no more proposals of peace ; 
so that the battle was now determined on by both sides. 
The churchman himself retired from the field ; but some 
youths of his train, inspired by the splendid preparations 
for battle, remained and bore arms on the side of France, 
which was much resented by the Black Prince. 

Early the following morning the valiant young Prince 
of Wales reviewed the position of his troops, and briefly 
said to them, " Sirs, be not abashed for the number of 
our enemies ; for victory is not in the multitude of peo- 
ple, but where God pleases to grant it. If we survive 
this day's confiict. our honour will be in proportion to the 
odds against which we fight ; if we die this day, there 
are men enough in England to revenge our. fall." 

As the prince thus addressed his people, the Lord 
Audlcy came forward, and besought a boon of him. 
*' JMy lord," he said, " 1 have been the true servant of 
your father and of your house ; and out of respect for 
both, I have taken a vow long since., that when 1 s!)ou!d 
be in any battle where the king your father, or any of 
his sons, should command, I will myself be2;in the battle, 
or die upon the place. May it please you now to per- 
mit me tc pass to the vanguard, and accomplish my 
vow ?" 



BATTLE OF POICTIERS. Ill 

The prince willingly granted his desire, saying, " Sir 
James, God give you grace so to bear yourself, that you 
bhall be acknowledged the best and foremost knight of 
all, this day !" 

The prince then proceeded somewhat to change the 
order of his army. Wlien reconnoitred by De Ribeau- 
mont, he had shown only one division. But when about 
to fight, he divided his little army into three, drawn up 
close in the rear of each other, on the sloping and defen- 
sible ground we have described. He also placed, apart, 
a body of men-at-arms, under the Captal of Buche, de- 
signed to fetch a compass round the hill, unobserved, and 
fall on the rear of the French when they should com- 
aience the attack. 

The French accordingly began the battle with the three 
hundred select nr;en-at-arms> whom they had caused to 
remain on horseback, for the service of dispersing tlie 
archers, and forcing a passage for the rest of tlie army. 
These had no sooner entered between the hedges, how- 
ever, than the archers, by whom they were lined, com- 
menced their .%tai discharge, and the horses of the men- 
at-arms recoiled and turned restive, disordering their own 
ranks, and rendering it impossible for their masters to 
perform the orders given to them. Sir James Audley, 
with four squires of undaunted valour, fought in the front 
of the battle, and stopped not to take prisoners, but went 
straight forward against all opposition. 

Jt was in vain that a great body of dismounted men-at- 
arms entered the fatal pass, under two of the French 
marshals, to relieve the mounted spearmen. One of these 
leaders was slain, the other made prisoner ; and their 
troops, driven back, were thrown in confusion upon the 
second line, commanded by the Dauphin. At the same 
time, the strong body of English men-at-arms, who had 
been reserved for that service, with a corresponding 
number of archers, burst unexpectedly from the ambus- 
cade, in which they had been till now concealed. This 
was connnanded, as already mentioned, by the valiant 
Gascon knight, called the Captal of Buche, a faithful 
16 4tb Ser. 



/18 KING JOHN TAKEN PKISONER, AND 

vassal of England. He attacked the French column of 
the flank and rear, and compelled it to fiy. The Scot- 
tish auxiliaries shared the fate of their allies. The vic- 
tory being now on ilie side of England, tlie prince com- 
snanded his men-at-arms to take horse, seeing the moment 
was come to advance. They mounted, and prepared to 
charge accordingly, the prince himself giving the word, 
" Advance banners, in the name of God and Saint 
George!" Upon seeing the approach of this strong 
body, those French lords who commanded the second 
division, and had charge of the three younger princes of 
France, retreated from the battle, in order, as they after 
wards alleged, To place these royal persons in safetv. 
The arn)y of the French was now in such confusion, that 
the third di\ision was exposed to the full fury of the 
English assault, by the retreat of the second line, and 
the person of King John, who commanded it, was placed 
in the greatest danger ; his nobles, who fought around 
him, were almost all slain or taken, and the victors, who 
disputed with each other the glory and advantage of 
taking so great a prince alive, called out, " Yield you, 
sir, or you die !" The gallant monarch disdained the 
safety which was to be found by complying with these 
invitations, and continued manfully to defend himself with 
his battle-axe. " If," says Froissart, " the knights of 
King John had fought as resolutelj;- as he did himself, the 
event of the day might have been different." 

Finding himself left almost alone, and overborne by 
numbers, the unfortunate king expressed a wish to sur- 
render to his cousin, the Prince of Wales ; but, as this 
was impossible, — for the prince was in a distant part of 
the field, — King John gave his gauntlet in token of sur- 
render to Sir Dennis Morbeque, a Frenchman by birth, 
but who, exiled from France for a homicide there com- 
mitted, was in the Black Prince's service. From this 
gentleman King John was soon after taken forcibly by 
several knights of England and Gascony, who disputed 
the prize with so much violence, that the captive mon- 
arch was only delivered from the tumult, and even the 



ENTERTAINED BY THE BLACK PRINCE. HI) 

personal danger which it involved, by the Earl of War- 
wick and Lord Cobhani, sent by the Prince of Wales to 
save him amid the general disorder. Philip of France, 
youngest son of King John, remained captive with his 
father. He behaved so resolutely on that fatal day, thai 
he was said to have then acquired the epithet of the 
Hardy, by which he was afterwards distinguished. 

The Prince of Wales, whose courtesy was at least 
equal to his bravery, caused a banquet to be spread in 
his pavilion, where he entertained the captive monarch, 
with his great nobles, while he himself refused to sit 
down at the table, c^s not worthy of so great an honour 
as to eat with the king of France. He bid his royal 
captive, at the same time, make no heavy cheer for his 
misfortunes, though the fate of battle had been otherwise 
than he would have desired. " You shall find my father," 
said he, " willing to display towards you all honour and 
friendship, and you shall, if you will, become such friends 
together as you have never hitherto been. Consider," 
he added, with well-meant fiaitery, " though you have 
lost the field, you have attained the praise of being the 
bravest knight who has this day fought upon your side." 
Tiie unfortunate king was much affected by the courtesy 
of his victor, from which he experienced whatever conso- 
lation his condition admitted of. 

The Prince of Wales was not less anxious to reward 
his friends, than by his generous conduct to soften the 
misfortunes of his enemies. Lord Audley, who had 
commenced the battle of Poictiers, had continued, as 
long as the action lasted, still pressing forward, without 
stopping to make prisoners, until at length he was nearly 
slain upon the spot; and he was the first object of the 
prince's gratitude. Upon this noble knight the prince 
bestowed, with his highest commendations, a noble gift 
of five hundred merks of yearly revenue, which Sir 
James Audley received with suitable expressions of 
gratitude. 

Wlien he returned to his own pavilion, the noble knight 
sent for his brother, and some other friends, and made 



(20 THE BLACK PRINCE. 

them bear witness that he transferred to his four faidiful 
squires the gift wliieh the prince had given him, -since it 
had been by liieir means and steady support, through tlie 
wliole battle, that he liad hevn able to render the services 
which til* prince had vali.ed so highly. 

On the second day after the battle, the Black Prince 
tiarched towards Poictiers, into which a distinguished 
French warrior, named the Lord of Roye, had thrown 
himself, w^ith a considerable body of men, which he was 
leading to join the French army, but which came too late 
for that service. Moderate, however, in his wishes to 
improve his victory, and chiefly desirous to secure his 
important prisoner. King John of France, the prince de- 
clined entering into any considerable enterprise at this 
iime, and passed steadily on his retreat towards Bour- 
df^HUK. His march was so slow, that he was at liberty to 
ttttend to the business of his army, and the details in 
which individuals were interested. 

Among other information, the Black Prince learned 
the generous manner in which Lord Audley had disposed, 
among his four esquires, of the splendid gift which his 
bounty had conferred upon him. He sent for him there- 
fore to his presence, and requested to know wherefore he 
had parted with the gift of his sovereign? and whether 
his conduct arose from the present not being acceptable 
to him ? Sir James Audley confessed that he had pre- 
sented to his esquires the gift which his highness's bounty 
liad cotiferred ; but he alleged, that the fidelity of those 
esquires had been the means of his being able to execute 
the vow which he had made ; and that, by their constant 
attendance through the bloody day, they had repeatedly 
saved his life at the imminent risk of their own. " Where- 
fore," said the noble lord, " it was well my part to trans- 
fer to ti)em that bounty which your highness designed 
for me, especially since, renouncing in their behalf this 
royal gift, } have still, God be praised ! revenues sufK- 
cient to maintain my place in your highness's service. 
But if this should offend your highness, I am right willing 
that it shall be ordm-ed according to your pleasure " 



REWARDS LORD AUDLET ISJI 

The Black Prince joyfully accepted an apology so 
congenial to his feelings. He highly approved of Lord 
Aiidley's gift to his escjuires, but made a point of pressing 
upon him an additional gift of four hundred pounds year- 
ly more, which he required him to retain for his own use 
and behoof. 

It was also, apparently, in this march that the Black 
Prince decided the important question, who was to be 
considered as the immediate captor of King John of 
France. With the same generosity and justice which 
always marked the conduct of this gallant prince, Edward 
adjudged the glory and profit of this action to the poor 
French exile, Sir Dennis of Morbeque, to whom King 
John had given his gauntlet in token of surrender, rather 
than to more powerful knights and barons, who stated 
their claim as preferable to that of the poor banished 
Frencliman. I have already staled, elsewhere, that the 
ransom of a captive belonged to the person by whom he 
was taken prisoner. But the person of King John fell 
under an exception, which adjudged, that prisoners, 
whose ransom was rated at ten thousand crowns or up- 
wards, should not belong to individuals, but to the gene- 
ral of the army. Tlie prince, therefore, finally closed 
this affair, by secretly transferring to. Dennis Alorbeque 
the sum at which King John's ransom was rated. 

After spending most of the winter at Bourdeaux, the 
Black Prince returned to England with his prisoner, and 
made a solemn entrance into London, where the citizens 
received him with a gorgeous display of their power and 
wealth. In the processsion which traversed the city on 
{he occasion, King John of France appeared in royal ar- 
ray, mounted upon a beautiful white courser, while the 
l*rmce of Wales, avoiding the triumphant display of a 
victor, rode beside his captive upon a little black palfrey 
of an ordinary appearance. In modern times, this might 
be considered as an aflectation of humility, and a more 
pointed personal triumph, than if the prince had shown 
less, apparent deference. But we are not to judge of the 



122 MEETING OF THE 

feelings of a rude age from those of a civilized one. In 
Edward's time, it was no uncommon disjolay of die \ic- 
lor to show conquered princes to the people, loaded with 
irons, as in the triumphs of the ancient Ronifins ; and 
the very opposite conduct of the conqueror of Poictiers, 
was considered as a mark of moderation and humility 'in 
the part of the conqueror, and received as such by the 
vanquished, and all who witnessea it. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Consequences to Fi'ance of the Battle of Poictiers— 
Disputes between the Dauphin and the States- General 
— Suppression of an Insurrection under Sir Godfrey 
Harcourt, who had again revolted to the English — 
Siege of Rennes — Truce concluded — Capture of the 
Castle of Euvreux by Sir William. Granville — Es- 
cape of Charles of Kavarre from Prison — he organ- 
izes the Faction of the JVavarrois — Insolence of Mar- 
cel, Provost of Paris — Insurrection of the Peasantry, 
called Jacquerie — Partial Success of the Pegent 
against the English — Treaty for the Ransom of King 
John — the Estates of France refuse to sanction this 
Treaty, and Edward again invades France — Siege 
of Rheims — Peace of Bretigny — Death of King 
John, and Accession of the Dauphin Charles. 

The battle of Poictiers, being the disastrous conse- 
quence of that of Cressy, had been yet more calamitous 
than the preceding victory. (A. D. 1356.) For, as 
the combat had been chiefly fought on foot, and almost 
wholly by dismounted men-at-arms, a much larger j)or- 
tion of the French nobility had been slain than at Cressy 
and the kingdom was, in a great measure, deprived of 
those on whose courage the defence of the country was 
supposed chiefly to depend. The three sons of King 
John, who W2re aaturally looked to as heirs of the crown, 



STATES-GENERAL. 123 

were too young to be capable of retrieving so dreadful a 
misfortune as tlie defeat of Poictiers. Tlie king had left 
no regent, or other legal representative ; a deficienc)r 
wliieh his son Ciiarles, who bore the title of dauphin and 
Duke of Normandy, endeavoured to supply, by sunmion- 
ing a meeting of the Estates of the kingdom, naturally 
hoping, that in a period so calamitous he should find 
them disposed to act unanimously for obtaining the rehef 
of King John, and restoring good order in the kingdom 
of France. 

Unliappilv, however, the members of this national body 
were strongly teinpted to avail tliemselves of a favourable 
opportunity for depressing the royal power, and raising 
their own, rather than to combine in a joint effort for ex- 
tricating the nation from its difficulties. 

One principal cause of the general discontent and dis- 
order, was the intrigues and conspiracies of the King of 
Navarre, who at this period might be justly termed the 
Evil Genius of France. It is here for an instant neces- 
sary to resume his history between 1354 and the battle 
of Poictiers. We have mentioned, that, at the former 
period, by the solemn farce of a submission and pardon, 
a reconciliation had been patched up betwixt him and 
King John. Charles of Navarre felt more resentment 
at the harsh manner of his trial, than gratitude for the 
easy terms of his pardon. He seems also to have been 
deeply imbued with that love of mischief for mischief's 
sake, which is in some a symptom of a tendency to 
insanity. He organized new conspiracies, into which he 
seduced even the heir of the crown, whom he persuaded 
that he was not sufficiently intrusted with power by his 
father. John, however, detected the plot of this wicked 
prince, and having a full ex[)lanation with the dauphin, 
prevailed on him to desert the pernicious faction with 
which he had engaged. The king, by the daupliin's 
personal assistance, next seized upon the person of the 
king of Navarre, and threw him into prison, where he 
remained till after the battle of Poictiers. The Count 
of Haroourt, brother of Sir Godfrey, was executed, among 



124 iNTIllCIIES OF CHARLES OF NAVARRE. 

Other adherents of the King of Navarre, upon the appre 
hension of their leader. 

But when the field of Poictiers was lost, it was not the 
least, aniidst the various calamities of that disastrous pe- 
riod, that the spirit of Charles of Navarre influenced the 
delibeiatioris of the States-General, although his person 
was confined in the Castle of Crevecoeur. The Stales 
made it soon evident that they were less bent on the res- 
toration of the king to his subjects, than upon the degra- 
dation of the croun, and engrossing the sovereign power 
within their own body. They divided tliemselves into 
separate comnnttees, for executing various branches of the 
public service hitherto transacted by the king's ministers, 
and transmitted several lofty demands to the dauphin, 
requiring the punishment of certain officers of state, of 
whom they comjjlained, a general change of the king's 
ministry, the deliverance from prison of the King of Na- 
varre, and the subjection of tlie dauphin's government to 
the predominating influence of a committee of thirty-six 
of tlie meu)bers of the States-General, in which it was 
proposed to vest the powers of their whole body. 

Tlie dauphin Charles, embari-assed by the engrossing 
and grasping spirit displayed by the assembly from whom 
he had expected assistance, endeavoured to evade de- 
mands which he could not have granted without great 
liazard to the crown of which he was heir, and disrespect 
towards his father, who, although a prisoner in England^ 
was still its owner. He dissolved the States, in spite of 
the remonstances of the citizens of Paris, who, headed 
by Marcel, the provost of the merchants, and Ronsac, 
the sheriff, declared violently in favour of the assembly 
of representatives, and insisted upon their being reinstated 
in their authority. 

While these intestine divisions were proceeding with 
violence in the metropolis, war was laying waste t!ie more 
distant provinces of the kingdom of France. The cele- 
brated Duke of Lancaster was in arms in Normandy, and 
in his company Lord Godfrey of Harcourt, whose name 



tJEATH OF GODFREY OF HARCOUKT. l'2b 

We have frequently had occasion to allude to. He had, 
as we iiave already mentioned, submitted to King John, 
after the battle of Cressy ; but, incensed by the death 
of his brother, John, Couat of Harcourt, lie had again 
revolted to the English interest, and, having joined the 
Duke of Lancaster, was appointed his lieutenant. 

One slender ray of light alone remained. Ere the 
States were dissolved, they had granted some supjjlies, 
enabling the Duke of Normandy to levy a small army to 
suppress this internal enemy in the province where he 
claimed an especial personal interest. By the judicious 
use of these supplies, a valiant French knight. Sir Rob- 
ert Clermont, with about three hundred men-at-arms, 
and a sufficient body of infantry, marched against Sir 
Godfrey Harcourt, wliom he speedily met with. The 
troops which that eminent malecontent commanded, were 
chiefly revolted Frenchmen, like himself, but of no great 
reputation in arms. Part of his troops consisted of a body 
of aichers, who operated with little effect on the French 
men-at-arms, who covered themselves under their buck- 
lers, and when the quivers of their enemy were expend- 
ed, advanced to close quarters. The men of Sir God- 
frey Harcourt then shrunk from the attack ; but their 
general continued fighting with courage worthy his repu- 
tation. Seeing, however, that escape was impossible, he 
took his resolution to die like a man. Being slightly 
lame, he placed himself so as, by the inequality of the 
ground, to supply in some degree the deficiency of his 
limbs, and wielding an axe of great weight, (for he was 
very strong in the arms,) he dealt such furious blous, 
that for a time no one dared approach him. At length, 
after he had thus valiantly defended himself against all 
who attacked him on foot, two French knights, mounting 
tiieir horses, charged him at the gallop, and bore hisi:! to 
the earth with their spears, where he was slain by the 
mfantry who crowded around him. Thus died Sir God- 
frey de Harcourt, paying at lengtli the penalty frequently 
attending those who have been the means of plunging 



126 CAPTURE OF EUVREUX. 

their country into the evils of civil war. This battle was 
fought near Coutances, about November, 1356. , 

Shortly afterwards, the Duke of Lancaster, in revenge 
of the death of Sir Godfrey Harcourt, besieged Rennes 
very closely, pressed it hard, and threatened, by the 
taking of that city, to complete the separation of Bre- 
lagiie from the French kingdom. Lord Charles of Blois, 
who continued his efforts to possess himself of the county 
of Bretagne, urged the dauphin strongly to assist him 
with soldiers, but the dauphin had other work upon his 
hands, for the dissolution of the States-General had then 
cast every thing into disorder. 

A truce was, however, made, at the earnest intercession 
of two cardinals of the church. It afforded a moment's 
breathing time to the unhappy kingdom of France, and 
oblicred the Duke of Lancaster to raise the siege of 
Rennes, which was on the point of surrender. But the 
evils of France were so great that this partial relief was 
scarcely felt. In fact, the confusion and general discon- 
tent in that kingdom broke out in such numerous and 
dreadful forms, that, to understand them, it is necessary 
to consider them separately ; and, without minutely at- 
tending to the order in which the events happened, we 
may observe, that they were, each and all, the portentous 
consequences of general confusion and discord, of the 
absence and captivity of the king, the mutiny of the 
common people, and the disposition of all ranks to vio- 
lence and spoil. 

The first great evil was the progress of the English 
war, which, although not violently pursued by King Ed- 
ward, was yet followed up by his captains in Bretagne, 
Normandy and Gascony. The manner in which such 
enterprises were carried on, may be well illustrated by the 
successful attack of William of Granville upon the strong 
town and castle of EuvreuK. This nobleman dwelt about 
two leagues from that town, and often visited it. He was 
privately attached to Philip of Navarre, younger brother 
of Charles the Bad, who served with the English hosts 
oommanded by the Duke of Lancaster. But the Lord 



BY WILLIAM OF GRAiNVILLE. 121 

of Granville had never ojoenly borne arms in the quar- 
rel j no suspicion attached to him, therefore, at Euvreux 
and he had the means of making a strong party amont 
the burgesses. He came by degrees to use the open 
ground before the castle-gate as a place for his ordinary 
promenade ; and as the captain sometimes went abroad 
for refreshment, and entered into conversation with him, 
they fell into a sort of familiarity. 

One day, having every thing appointed to support his 
attempt, William of Granville began to tell an idle story 
to the governor concerning a pretended attack upon Eng- 
land by the joint forces of the King of Denmark and the 
King of Ireland, who, for that purpose, had, he said, 
taken the sea with a numerous host. When the French- 
man demanded from whence he had this intelligence, 
William of Granville replied, that a knight of Flanders 
had sent the news to him, and with it a set of chessmen, 
the most beautiful he had ever seen. This excited the 
curiosity of the seneschal of the castle, who was a great 
admirer of the game of chess. William of Granville, as 
if to gratify his curiosity, sent for the chessmen, on con- 
dition that they should play a game together. The board 
and men were brought ; and the seneschal u^as so impru- 
dent as to admit the kniglit within the entrance of the 
fortress. He was privately armed with a sliirt of mail 
concealed under his upper clothing, and held in bis hand 
a small battle-axe, and thus, while apparently intent on 
his game, stood prepared to take advantage of such op- 
portunity as should present itself. In the meantime, his 
valet warned the conspirators, burgesses of the place, to 
hold themselves in instant readiness. In the course of 
the game, W''illiam of Granville seized an oppoitunity to 
dash out the captain's brains with his battle-axe, and 
wmding a bugle horn which he carried with him for the 
purpose, the burgesses ran to his assistance, and found 
him bestriding the body of the captain, and defending 
the gate, which he had occupied, against such of the 
garrison as hastily took the alarm. The insurgents speed- 
ily seconded him, and made themselves masters of FiU"^- 



128 ESCAPE OF CHARLES OF NAVARRE. 

reux, which became a head quarter of the faction ot tn^ 
English, or Navarrois, in Norniandy. 

Such was tlie nature of tlie exploits which were then 
achieved in every corner of France, in which good faith 
and personal fidelity seem to have been little observed 
by either party. 

It \\as not, however, so much the national war be- 
tween the French and English which brought so much 
harm upon the former nation, as the violent factions among 
the Frenchmen themselves, which were about this time 
considerably augmented in number, and no less so in 
rancour. 

I have told you more than once of the peculiar and 
dangerous character of Charles, King of Navarre. It w as 
the misfortune of France that this person, of so faithless a 
disposition, joined to qualities so showy and so popular, 
escaped, at this moment of the greatest confusion, from 
the castle of Crevecoeur, in which he had been con- 
fined by King John for his former intrigues. The lib- 
erated prisoner was received with great joy, not only at 
Amiens, and other cities, but in Paris itself, where Mar- 
cel, the provost of the merchants, became his principal 
adherent. 

Being an accomplished orator, Charles of Navarre 
harangued the Parisians in pubhc, and with great effect 
on their credulity ; he seemed to declare himself for a 
republic, or rather an aristocracy, instead of a monarchy, 
countenancing the claims of the States, in opposition to 
those which were preferred for the crown on the part of 
the dauphin and others. Those who adhered to the party 
of Charles, or in general to that of the States, obtained 
ihe name of Navarrois. Philip of Navarre, however, 
though the brother of Charles, remained in the English 
camp ; nor could he ever be prevailed on to declare in 
favour of a republic, in which, he said, there could nevei 
be order, honour, or stability, but a constant succession o/ 
shame and confusion. 

Meantime, the dauphin was under the necessity of 
again assembling the States-General, in order to obtain^ 



INSURRECTION OF THE PARISIANS. 129 

tlirongh their means, the power of imposing taxes, and 
levying money for tlie support of the war. The provost 
of the merchants thwarted the dauphin in all his pro- 
jects ; for, like the King of Navarre, his patron, he per- 
sonally hated tlie dauphin, who had been once in some 
degree hinjself a Navarrois, until induced by the remon- 
strances of his father King Jolin to renounce these dan- 
gerous opinions. Owing to tliis defection, the dauphin 
was mortally hated by the King of Navarre and his fol- 
lowers. Marcel the provost in particular mixed in all his 
proceedings, and caused the people, who followed him in 
great numbers, to assume blue hats, as a mark of their 
adlierence to his party. The slightest offence given to 
any of these armed burgesses called the whole pa^ty 
fortli ; and it became absolutely impossible to maintain 
good order even in the capital itself, far less to make any 
exertion, by levying money or otherwise, in behalf of the 
king, who was still a captive in England. The dauphin 
endeavoured to temporise, and strove, by every means in 
his power, to form a royal party in opposition to that of 
the King of Navarre. He had in some measure sue 
ceeded, when an accident threw all into irretrievable 
confusion. 

An ordinary citizen, named l\Iace, had murdered Jean 
Baillett, the Treasurer of France, and taken refuge in a 
neighbom'ing church. The dauphin sent two mareschals, 
one of France, and one of Champagne, with orders to 
take the criminal into custody, and lead him to instant 
execution. The Hishop of Paris. exclaimed against this 
act of necessary justice, as a violation of the sanctuary of 
the church, and the provost of the merchants called his 
followers into the streets, and marched with the whole 
mob of Paris directly to the lodgings of the dauphin, in 
what was tiien called the Palace of Justice. Entering 
furiously, and without reverence, into the presence of the 
dauphin, Marcel seized upon the two mareschals, and put 
them to death, so close to the prince, that he was covered 
with tlieir blood. " How now, sirs," said the dauphin, 
apprehensive of farther violence, " would you shed the 



'30 FACTION OF THE NAVARROIS. 

blood royal of France !" Marcel answered in the nega- 
tive ; and, to show his good intentions, he -snatched 
rudely from the dauphin's head the embroidered hat oi 
hood wliich he wore, and clapped on him in its place the 
blue liat, which was the sign of the Navari'ois faction. 
He himself, to complete his insolence, wore during the 
rest of the day the hat of the prince, which was of a 
withered rose colour. The bodies of the murdered ma- 
reschals were dragged through the streets, and the King 
of Navarre, who had avoided being present in the city 
during the insurrection, endeavoured to take advantage 
of thf" incident, so as to farther his own plans, by the 
most extravagant demands, which he founded upon it. 
The dauphin, however, was received as regent by the 
states, to whom the Navarrois had proposed to dethrone 
the king, and dispossess the dauphin. Thus- fortified at 
least with nominal authority, the prince withdievv from 
the metropolis and its turbulent citizens, to tlie counties 
of Picardy and Champagne, where he assembled the 
states of those provinces, and received such succours and 
obedience as they had the means of yielding to him. 
All France was thus shaken to its centre with internal 
discord, and its disasters seemed past the possibility of 
increase, when two circumstances, both of a most alarm- 
ing kind, carried tlie general misery to a height hitherto 
unknown, and even blunted the feelings of the public to 
the wretchedness which they had hitherto undergone. 

We have already mentioned the bands of mercenary 
leaders, who acknowledged no officer or supeiior but 
those who promised to procure them the greatest share 
of plunder. These troops, or at least their leaders, were 
generally English ; and although they made no great 
distinction of political principle, they were chiefly follow- 
ers of the Navarre party, as that which promised them 
the widest privilege of plunder. By means of jhese 
Companions, as they were called, Cliarles of Navari'e 
proposed to carry into effect his dream of a republic, or 
rather a species of oligarchy, in which, doubtless, he pro- 
posed that he himself should act the principal part. For 



INSURRECTION Of THE JACQ,UERIE. 131 

ihis purpose, he drew to his party as many of the leaders 
of the Companions as ' he possibly could, and prepared 
by their means to lay waste the kingdom of France. 

Neither was the dauphin backward in his attempts ta 
reduce the kingdom to subjection ; for, as we shall pres- 
ently see, a second great and overpowering calamity, 
namely, the insurrection of the peasantry, was in its con- 
sequences, the means of strengthening and increasing the 
army which he assembled. This Jacquerie, or war of 
the peasants, so called, because the gentry gave to the-n 
the contemptuous name of Jaques Bonhomme, or Good- 
man James, was the most dreadful scourge which had yet 
ravaged France ; it is impossible to conceive, and it 
would be indecent and disgusting to attempt to describe 
Its horrors. It arose from the series of oppression, scorn,, 
and injury, which the peasants, or cultivators of the soil; 
had so long sustained at the hands of the nobility and 
gentry. These last saw in the peasantry creatures whom 
they de-emed of an inferior species to themselves, and 
whose property and persons they held alike at their dis- 
posal. What little protection the common people had 
received from the crown was now at an end, by the 
king's captivity, and the general confusion throughout 
the kingdom. In these sad days, each noble or knight 
became the uncontrolled feudal tyrant of the estate wiiich 
belonged to him ; and most of them were induced, by 
the intoxication attending the possession of arbitrary 
power, to make a harsh and tyrannical use of their privi- 
leges, each practising on his vassals the most unlimited 
oppression. The effects of such absolute power termi- 
nated in the grossest abuses, and at length drove to uttei 
despair the peasantry, who were themselves starving, 
while, as an insult to their misery, they saw their lords 
revelling in the excess of luxury and ill-timed extrava- 
gance. After witnessing the evils of the country pro- 
ceed from bad to worse, the peasantry at length became 
desperate, and seizing such rustic arms as pitchforks, 
scythes, clubs and reaping-hooks, they rose with fury, and 



i3'-2 INSURRECTION OF THE JACq.LERlE. 

joined together in large bodies, resolving to destroy all 
the nobility and gentry in the kingdom. 

This insurrection took place in several provinces ; and, 
as is usually the case in a war of such a description, where 
an oppressed and ignorant people burst suddenly from 
their bondage, and revel in every license whicli ignorance 
and revenge can suggest to them, they burnt or pulled 
down the houses of the nobility, stormed their castles by 
main force, misused their wives and daughters, put them 
to various modes of death, equally cruel and protracted, 
and in short behaved like fierce bandogs, suddenly un- 
loosed from their chain, and equally incapable of judg- 
ment and of humanity. There was one instance, and 
not a solitary one, where this furious rabble roasted a 
noble, whose castle they had stormed, alive on a spit, 
and compelled his wife and children to partake of his 
flesh. We willingly leave these horrors in oblivion, only 
remarking, that it is a double curse of slavery and oppres- 
sion, that for a time it renders its victims, after they suc- 
ceed in breaking their bonds, incapable of thinking like 
human b/^ings. 

The horrors of this servile war had this good effect, 
that it impelled all men to join in putting a stop to so 
aggravated an evil. The nobility, however, who made 
the use of arms their sole profession, soon united together 
for mutual defence, and, completely armed as they were, 
found no difficulty in defeating the frantic peasants, though 
with the most unequal numbers. 

An instance is given by Froissart of an interesting na- 
ture. The Duchess of Normandy, the Duchess of Or- 
leans, and nearly three hundred other ladies of quality, 
young damselsj and children of the nobility, had taken 
refuge in the town of Meaux, where they hoped to be 
defended against the fury of the Jacquerie. Here they 
were beset by about nine or ten thousand of the insur- 
gents ; and it became too apparent that the rabble of the 
town were to take part with the peasantry, and admit 
inem into the place without opposition. The Count of 
Folx and the Captal of Buche, chanced to pass neat 



SUPPRESSION OF THE INSURRECTION. 133 

ihe town where the ladies were enclosed by sucl' 
numbers, and heard an account of their imminent peril; 
and of the rnuiiilude of savage clowns by whom the)r 
were surrounded. The knights were of different polit- 
ical principles. The earl was French both in birth 
and opinions ; the Captal of Buclie, so called from 
a district in Gascony, of which he was governor, was 
distinguished by his valour in the service of Edward III., 
being the same who led the successful ambuscade at the 
battle of Poictiers. Both, without regarding their dif- 
ference in other particulars, were alike disposed to show 
themselves good knights, and put their persons in risk foi 
the safety of so many noble ladies, who were destined to 
death and infamy by a furious rabble. The armed at- 
tendants of the knights might be sixty lances, probably 
making, with all their retainers, about three or four hun- 
dred men. 

At the head of this very inferior force, the Count of 
Foix, and the Captal of Buche, rode straight to Meaux, 
where the ladies were still protected in a citadel, or forti- 
fied quarter of the town, altliough the inhabitants had 
admitted the ruffian mob into the market-place and streets 
of the city. Tlie two valiant knights arrived just in time 
to |)revent the females from falling into the cruel hands 
of their outrageous enemies. They lowered their lances, 
and rushed into tlie market-place, then full of the disor- 
derly rabble, who were ill able to endure an attack so fu- 
rious. They were borne out of the town at the spear's 
point, broken, beaten down, and pursued for miles. His- 
torians assure us, that seven thousand of the peasants 
were slain, whicli is not impossible, considering that their 
antagonists were so fully armed as almost to be invulne- 
rable, while their opponents were entirely defenceless. 
The knights returned in triumph, and burnt a part of the 
town of Meaux, to revenge themselves on the inhabitants 
who had admitted the peasants within the walls. The 
warriors who (though personal and national enemies) had 
acted with so much gallantry in behalf of the distressed 



134 SUPPRESSION OF THE INSURRECTION 

iemaleSj were applauded, and generally imitated. Othei 
battles, like that of IVleaux, took place in France, in dif- 
ferent places, and the Jacquerie, which had raged so hor- 
ribly, was finally suppressed. 

As I have before hinted, the horrors of this insurrection 
of the peasantry obliged the nobles to unite themselves 
together, and rendered them more obedient to the com- 
mand of their natural chiefs. Their campaign, it may be 
believed, was a bloody one, since they gave no quarter, 
but hanged, upon the next tree, such insurgents as fell 
into their hands. Though a sharp remedy, it proved a 
sure one, and this rebellion was at length stifled in the 
blood of the unfortunate peasants. The regent, or the 
dauphin, was thus enabled to place himself at the head 
of an army of thirty thousand men, raised for the service 
of subjecting the Jacquerie, but at the head of which he 
speedily took an opportunity to blockade the rebellious 
town of Paris, of which he earnestly desired to render 
himself master. He hoped for success the rather that he 
had a party also within the town secretly attached to him, 
though not strong enough openly to contend with the 
faction led by the provost of the merchants. 

The King of Navarre, on the other side, brought to- 
gether a strong body of the bands of Companions of whom 
I have before spoken, and encamped at St. Dennis, in 
order to take such opportunity as might offer to support 
the Provost Marcel, and the Parisians of the Navarre fac- 
tion. The provost, in the meantime, became satisfied 
that matters could not remain long in this uncertainty, 
and resolved to admit the King of Navarre and his forces 
into the city, in order to enable him to continue a resist- 
ance to tlie dauphin, to which he began to feel his own 
influence was not equal. He communicated, therefore, 
to the chiefs lying at St. Dennis, the scheme he had 
formed, and directed them to approach the gates of St. 
Antoine and St. Honore, at twelve o'clock the ensuing 
nisi;ht, with a choice body of forces, whom he proposed 
t ■» admit into Paris. 

It happened, however, that two citizens heads of tlie 



DAUPHIN ENTERS PARIS IN TRIUMPH. 135 

anposite, or regent's party, called John and Symon Mail- 
art, l)aving some suspicions of what was going on, appre- 
hended the provost about midnight, at the gate of St. x\n- 
loine, having the keys of the city in his hands. They in- 
stantly-charged him with treachery, and slew him upon 
the spot. Thus died Marcel ; and his party, having been 
detected in so disloyal an enterprise, fell into public dis- 
credit, and was dispersed. The immediate effect of thess 
events was, that the dauphin, on the one part, entered 
Paris in triumph, and the King of Navarre, on the other, 
declared war formally against the whole kingdom of 
France. 

This defiance he carried into execution, by means of 
the bands of Companions who, as we have intimated, were 
in possession of iriany strong places in different parts of 
France, from whence they made unexpected sallies and 
long marches, by which they took castles which were 
thought in absolute security, and pillaged defenceless vil- 
lages when they least thought of danger. The prisoners 
which these adventurers made on such occasions, were 
ransomed for large sums of money ; and those who could 
not; or would not, pay these exactions, were put to death 
without mercy. 

Providence, however, had not entirely deserted France, 
and even out of the extremity of disorder and confusion, 
divine wisdom wrought means of recovery. It was ob- 
served, that the English commanders began gradually to 
lose the superior good fortune which had attended theii 
banners. 

Sir Eustace d'Ambreticour, one of the bravest of the 
commanders of the Companions, in the service of Eng- 
land, held at last twelve good fortresses under his com- 
mand, in different parts of the country, and had at his 
disposal upwards of seven hundred combatants. He was 
nevertheless defeated and made prisoner, chiefly by 
means of another leader of a free company, like his own, 
called Broquart of Fenestrages, who, on this occasion, 
was engaged on the part of the French. In other places, 



136 TREATY FOR THE RANSOM 

also tiie dauphin had partial successes, which gradually 
restored the spirits of the French faction. 

Still they suffered severely by this n^ode of warfare, a3 
appears from the expedition of another celebrated Cap- 
lain of Companions, called Sir Robert Knolles. * This 
leader was an Englishman born, of low birth and mean 
estimation ; but he distinguished himself by his military 
lai^^nts as a leader of a Free Company. He passed from 
Bretagne to the river Loire, wasting, burning, and ravag- 
ing the country, with the avowed purpose of marching to 
Avignon, where the Pope then resided, and forcing the 
Holy Father and his cardinals to ransom themselves at a 
high price. The presence of a considerable French army 
induced him to alter this intention. He offered them bat- 
tle, which they declined, and gave them the slip, when 
they expected to have surrounded him. Sir Robert 
Knolles acquired by this expedition, and other plunder- 
ing excursions, the wealth of an earl, and many lands, 
which he surrendered to King Edward, stinulating only 
for his own free pardon. But we may here quit the ac- 
count of tiiese occurrences, with the general observation, 
that the existence of these independent companies of ad- 
venturers long continued one of the most rankling griev- 
ances of the age. In the meantime, the restoration of 
peace between the nations did not advance, although 
France suffered so much, and England gained so little, by 
the continuance of the war. 

The unfortunate King John of France, of whom we 
have lately had occasion to speak but little, appears, af- 
ter his defeat and captivity at Poictiers, to have been in a 
great measure forgotten by his subjects, although the duty 
of vassals to pay the ransom of their lord when prisoner, 
was one of the most sacred obligations of chivalry. Find- 
ing himself abandoned to his own exertions, he endeav- 
oured to accommodate his differences with Edward. By 
an agreement entered into with this prince, King John 
engaged to surrender Aquitaine, Gascony, Calais, and 
•ither fiefs, which Edward and his successors were to hold 
free of homage, or feudal fealty of any kind. The King 



OF KING JOHN OF FRANCE. 137 

of France became fartlier bound to pay four millions of 
gold crowns in ransom for himself and tlie otlier prisoners 
taken at Poictiers. King Edward, on the other hand, in 
consideration of ti)is treaty, agreed to renounce ail claim 
to the title of King of France, as well as all property in 
Normandy, and the other provinces not expressly ceded 
to him by the present articles. 

Such were the terms on which King John would havo 
been satisfied to close the war, and to obtain his liberty. 
King Edward gave his assent to them, as comprehending 
all he expected to gain by the events of the war, for he 
must have despaired of all hope of conquering France. 
But the consent of the Estates-General was essential to 
the validity of the treaty. This great body, representing 
the French nation, positively refused to accede to terms 
by which so great a portion of the kingdom should be 
surrendered to the English. The consequence was, that 
the preparations for war were resumed with great animos- 
ity on both sides. The King of England, on his part, 
renewed his preparations, and assembled an army of no 
less than a hundred thousand men. A truce had been 
made, which was ])rolonged till midsummer 1.359, so that 
it was the end of the harvest ere Edward III., with this 
large army, arrived at Calais. 

In the meantime, the news that Edward was about to 
renew the war with a view of absolute conquest, had no 
small influence on the Navarrois party, and even on 
Charles himself, who became sensible, of a sudden, that 
any success on Edward's part would bring upon him, in 
the person of the King of England, a competitor more 
formidable than he had yet /ound in the lawful regent. 
He, therefore, to the surprise of all men, renoimced, at 
least for a time, the factious principles which had hitherto 
guided him in his intercourse with the dauphin, and 
made a peace with that prince upon very reasonable and 
equitable conditions. Philip, the brother of the King of 
Navnrre, continued to act under the influence of England, 
and declared, that in making so ill-thned a peace, his 



138 SIEGE OF BHEIMS. 

brother Charles must have been acting under the influ- 
ence of witchcraft ; indeed, the adoption of moderate of 
pacific views was, on his part, widely out of character. 

Eklward III., in the meantime, commenced his march, 
and, traversing in great order the provinces of Artois and 
Picardy, he laid siege to the ancient city of Rheims, and 
it was said that he designed to have liimself crowned there, 
according to the ancient custom of the kings of France. 
But the city was gallantly defended. The archbishop 
encouraged the citizens to stand on their defence, and 
many noblemen with their followers were also in the 
place. During this siege, which lasted for three months, 
the King of Navarre relapsed afresh into his usual per- 
verse politics, and, on some slight pretext, again broke 
out into war with the dauphin ; but whatever advanl«ge 
Edward received from the conduct of this versatile prince, 
he lost by the rebellion of the Flemings, whom tlie in- 
trigues of France again diverted to the interest of tnat 
country. 

In 1360, (A. D.) Edward found himself obliged tc 
abandon the siege of Rheims, and drew off his ,army 
towards the capital of France — a species of insult, or 
menace repeatedly used by the English during these 
wars, but with little real effect. The dauphin regent 
occupied the capital at the head of a numerous army ; 
but, as on the one hand that prince declined to put the 
fate of the country upon the dubious issue of another 
battle, which might in its event have resembled that of 
Cressy or Poictiers, so, on the other hand, the King of 
England was too prudent to attempt the assault of a larg'3 
city garrisoned by a numerous army. King Edward 
theiefore thought it ex pedierft to retreat towards Bretagne 
to lecruit his forces, while the regent and his council, 
deeply affected by the scene of desolation which France 
presented on all sides, saw the necessity of submitting to 
sue for a peace, however disadvantageous. The king ol 
England was still averse to relinquish his high pretensions 
to the crown of France, and it is said that an intervenini; 
«b mder-storm, or hurricane, which he considered as a 



PEACE OF BRETIGNY. 139 

Epecial sign of tbe displeasure of Heaven against those 
princes wiio should prolong the war, first bent liis stub- 
born spirit to accept of peace. 

But in fact, the successes of Edward had been bought 
at a price which even the wealth of England could not 
pay ; and besides exhausting his finances, the events of 
the late campaign had plainly showed him what he could, 
and what he could not do. He could march through 
France without opposition, but this was not subjecting it 
to his sovereignty ; and a solitary city like Rheims was, 
if determined on resistance, sufficient to arrest his pro- 
gress. Tlie issue of the Scottish wars may have taught 
tliis great warrior the difference between overrunning a 
country and subjugating it : and the readiness with which 
a poor and small nation vindicated its independence, 
might teach him the impossibility of subduing France, 
so much more populous and wealthy than Scotland — if, 
like her, she was determined to defend her liberty — and 
that such was her resolution, the siege of Rheims made 
manifest. The conqueror was therefore taught to prefer 
the possession of Gascony in complete sovereignty, out 
of which in time a permanent possession might be formed, 
to a protracted war, in the vain hope that any subse- 
quent victory could do more than those of Cressy or 
Poictiers. 

Edward, therefore, instead of persevering in his attempt 
to conquer the kingdom of Fiance, determined to remain 
for the present satisfied with possesssi-ng Gascony, tliai 
portion of it which was ceded to him in full sovereignty. 
He should thus, he hoped, secure one compact a-nd per- 
manent possession, while he had free access to invade 
France by means of Calais, and was thus ready to avail 
himself of such opportunities of farther conquest as might 
arise. 

Still farther to secure his dominions in Gascony, the 
King of England erected them into a principality, creat- 
ed the Black Prince his lieutenant and representative 
lliere, confident that, by the courage and wisdom which 



40 PEACE OF BRETIGNT. 

Ills son bad so often displayed, he could not in any way 
provide so well for their goveinment and safety. 

The articles of peace were, of course, favourable to 
Eiigland, to wlioni the King of France relinquished, in 
full superiority, the provinces of Gascony, with various 
other dependencies in Aquitaine ; and in the north of 
France, the town of Calais and earldom of Guisnes. In 
exchange, King Edward renounced all title to the crown 
and kingdom of France, and all claims to Normandy, 
Touraine, Anjou, and Maine. 

Upon these conditions the peace of Bretigny was 
founded, wiiich was most acceptable to the subjects of 
both crowns, though not agreeable in all respects to either 
of the kin2;s themselves. Difficulties arose concerning 
the surrender of some part of the territory and castles 
yielded to the English ; and the higli-spirited noblemen 
who there held fiefs, did not understand being transferred, 
like a flock of sheep, from the allegiance of one sovereign 
lo another. Many Gascon knights refused to exchange 
the sovereignty of France for that of England. France^ 
they said, might herself dispense with their faith and 
homage, but slie had no right to substitute a strange king 
in her place. These difficulties suspended the benefits 
expected from the peace. The Dukes of Anjou and 
Berri, with the Dukes of Orleans and of Bourbon, still 
remained hostages in England, for payment of the ran- 
som stipulated for the prisoners of Poictiers. These 
princes obtained, on their solicitation, permission to pass 
to Calais, under pretence that they might be able to fur- 
nish the means of concluding the disputed points of the 
treaty. Instead of doing so, the Duke of Anjou took 
the opportunity of abusing this indulgence, and made l)is 
e.icape into France. 

King John had been set at liberty when he first came 
to an understanding with Edward, and had returned to 
France accordingly. But ne was deeply hurt and offended 
at what he considered thr. disiionourable conduct of bis 
son, and took tlie generous resolution of restoring to the 
English their full security for the ransom, by surrendering 



DEATH OF KING JOHN. 141 

{lis own person once more into their hands. To such of 
his counsellors as would have cautioned him against this 
step, he firmly replied, that, " if faith and loyalty were 
banished from the rest of the world, they ought still to 
remain enshrined in the hearts of kings." 

Tl)e generous feeling expressed in this noble sentiment, 
seems to show that John of France deserved better for- 
tune than that which had followed him during his whole 
life, and now accompanied him to th-e grave. A very 
short time after his return to England, John was seized 
with an indisposition, of which he died in the Savoy : 
and his son Charles, who had undergone so r.iany diffi- 
culties as regent, now mounted the throne in the capacity 
sf king, carrying with him to that eminence all the ex- 
perience which many years of difficulty and misfortune 
had enabled him to attain, and which has procured I'oi 
him in French annals the well-deserved e'pithet of the 
Wise. (April 8, A. D. 1364 ) 



964 



142 WAR IN NORMANDY. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

IVar in JVormandy — Battle of Cockerel — War in Bre* 
tagne, betiveen the Jidherents of De Montfort and D( 
Blois — Battle of Aurai — Financial Di^cidties oj 
Charles of France — Sumptuary Laws — Free Com- 
panions — Charles's Plan for removing them from 
France — Their Leader Du Gvesclin marches upon 
Avignon, and exacts a Fine from the Pope — he next 
engages in a War against Don Pedro the Cruel, 
King of Castile, and drives him from his Kingdom — 
Pedro solicits Assistance from the Black Prince, and 
is by him r.e-instated in his Dominions — Du Gueschn- 
having been taken Prisoner, is ransomed — Tax upon 
Chimneys, called Fouage, imposed in Gascony by tht 
Black Prince, to defray the Expenses of his Castilian 
Expedition — Unpopularity of this Tax. 

Charles of France, the fifty-first monarch of that 
kingdom, took up the affairs of his government in an in- 
volved and confused state. The dispute concerning Bre- 
tagne was not yet determined, and disturbances continued 
in Normandy between the Navarrois and the French par- 
tisans, the last of which parties were headed in a great 
measure by a valiant Breton knight, called Bertrand du 
Guesclin, to whose courage France owed much during 
the present reign. The Navarrois, on the other hand, 
were commanded by the Captal of Buche, already men- 
tioned in this narative. These two heroic leaders joined 
battle near Cocherel, in Normandy, with equal valour and 
skill, and the action is more particularly taken notice of 
on account of the merit of the leaders, and because for- 
tune was on the side of the French, being the first ac- 
tion since Cressy, in which that nation had been victori- 
ous. The Navarrois were completely defeated, and their 
stout commander, the Captal of Buche, fell into the 



8ATTLK OF AURA . 143 

hands of the conquerors. He was received with great 
distinction by King Charles, who would have bestowed 
upon him an earldom, had the Black Prince permitted 
the Captal to accept of it. 

This was a fortunate commencement of King Charles's 
reigii ; but it was not without its reverse in Bretagne. 
King Charles of France had sent tl)e aid of a thousand 
lances to Sir Charles de Blois, in order to strengthen 
his party in Bretagne, while Edward had despatched the 
Lord Chandos with an equal number, to support the cause 
of the Earl de Montfort, son of John de Montfort, and of 
his heroic countess, remarkable for her defence of Hen- 
nebon. These inveterate enemies, De Blois and De 
Montfort, finally encountered each other near the town 
of Aurai. Friends on both sides endeavoured to accom- 
modate the matter betwixt the contending nobles, but in 
vain ; each declaring himself resolved to peril their long- 
depending and long-disputed claims upon the event of 
that day. Tliey approached each other with slowness 
and caution, calculated to give an idea of the desperate 
resolution which each had adopted, to fight this long- 
protracted quarrel, concerning the sovereignty of Bre- 
tagne, for the last time, and to the last extremity. 

Chandos, who had the chief command of the army of 
the Count de IMontfort, divided his forces into three bat- 
talions, allotting to Sir Hugh Calverley, an English knight 
of great renown, the command of the rear-guard, or 
rather the reserve. This valiant champion, who was a 
man of distinguished courage, remonstrated against this 
arrantjement. as it was his wish to fi<rht in the front of the 
battle. The Lord Chandos explained his order of bat- 
tle, by assuring him that either Sir Hugh Calverley must 
lead the reserve, or he must conduct it himself, and sub- 
mitted to him v\'hich in that case was most proper. Sir 
Hugh w^as overcome with this gentleness and deference 
on the part of a leader so distinguished as Chandos, and 
saying, " he was sure that Chandos would put him on no 
task inconsistent with his honour," acquiesced in the post 
allotted to him. - - - - ■ 



114 RESULTS OF THE BATTLE OF AURAl. 

A little before the hour of prime, lie two armies ap- 
proached each other. The French came on in fqir array, 
" in sucih close order," says Froissart, " that, had onf. 
thrown an apple among the battalion, it must have lighted 
upon a helmet or a head-piece." They were also cov- 
ered with strong and large targets, to parry the shot of 
the English archers. Accordingly, advancing among the 
bowmen, without having endured tlie usual damage from 
their arrows, tlie French laid about among them, with the 
axes which they had prepared for close fight. The 
archers, on tlie other hand, being strong and active men, 
threw themselves among the French, and casting dowr 
their bows, and wrenching the axes from the hands ol 
their enemies, made a defence with singular, though una- 
vailing fury. The leaders on all sides fought most val- 
iantly, and Chandos, with an axe in his hand, set an 
example to all the field. Sir Hugh Calverley well sup- 
ported the place intrusted to him, and by his bringing up 
the reserve with undaunted valour, and in a moment ol 
extreme need, vindicated the prudence of Lord Chandos, 
who assigned to him so important a command, and finally 
decided the fate of the day. Sir Charles de Blois was 
slain on the field, for whom his adversary, De Montfoit, 
ched many tears, generously lamenting the fate of a gal- 
lant enemy. Bertrand du Guesclin also was made pris- 
oner ; thus deprived of their principal leaders, the French 
party were totally discomfited. 

This battle ended the hostilities of Bretagne, which 
had now lasted for so many years ; but the faction of Ed- 
ward III., who had so long supported the war, derived 
little advantage from its conclusion. It had been decid- 
ed by the peace of Bretigny, that the King of England 
should lay no claim to the superiority of Bretagne, in 
whatever manner the dispute between De Montfort and 
Charles de Blois might be terminated. The duchy alone 
was adjudged, by the event of this battle of Aurai, to 
the young Count de Montfort, who obtained, for his be- 
haviour in the action, the envied title of the Valiant. The 
King of France received the young victor to do homage 



RESUMPTION OK CROWN GIFTS. 145 

as Duke of BrRtagne, while he settled large and libera, 
sippoiiitments upon the lady of the deceased Cliailes De 
Blois. 

The difficulty of finding the means of bearing the 
various expenses of the kingdom embarrassed King 
Cl)arles greatly, and drove him to a course of raising 
funds, which, in the nature of things, could not be very 
popular. This was a general resumption of those gifts 
which, the king and his predecessors had made, as well to 
the great vassals of the crown, as to inferior subjects. 
In the course of this delicate task, Cl)arles, by his wise 
dom and oraiory, made such an impression upon his uncle, 
Philip of Oi'ean3,as to prevail on that higli prince of the 
blood, to resign all that he possessed by the favour of his 
father, brothers, and nephew, saying, "that although he 
conceived he had a legitimate right to the donations of 
the crown, yet he resigned them all at the pleasure of the 
king, his nephew, knowing that the service of the state 
rendered them necessary to him." Moved by so eminent 
and generous an example, others taking the same course 
of submission, given by a prince so near the crown, ac- 
quiesced also in the recall of such crown gifts as they 
held, while the king partly accepted the benefits which 
they surrendered, and partly returned them to the per- 
sons by whom they had been abandoned to his pleasure. 
These last were so sensible of tlie extremity to which the 
crown was reduced, that perhaps a measure of state 
necessarily obnoxious in itself, and severe upon individ- 
uals, was never carried into execution with so little un- 
popularity to the sovereign. 

The king also made many laws against luxury in enter- 
tainments, festivals, and apparel ; and by strictly acting 
up to ills own regulations, produced a considerable reform 
in the expenses of the great, which were a constant source 
of envy and odium to the poor. He was regular and 
steady in the execution of justice, and, so far as he could, 
active in enfoi'cing the judgments which he pronounced, 
but the state ol the country, overrun by bands of soldiers 



146 THE GREAT COMPANIES 

U'ho acknowledsred no sovereign, rendered his efforts to 
restore order for a long time, and in many instances, 
unavailing. 

Tliese associations of military adventurers, which, when 
they reached to a certain extent of numbers, were called 
the " Great Companies," continued an abiding, and ap- 
parently incurable, national evil. The King of France 
found himself, from the state of his finances, totally un- 
prepared to clear the country of these land-pirates, as 
they might be properly teruied, by whom it was inundat- 
ed. In his disti'ess, he applied to Edward HI., who, by 
an article in the treaty of Bi'etigny, had bound himself to 
lend his assistance, if required, in relieving Fra.rce of 
these military locusts. Edward, thus cited to fulfil his 
engagement, sent forth a proclamation, commanding these 
companies to lay down their arms, and evacuate the ter- 
ritory of France. Some few obeyed ; but the others 
treated his proclamation with contempt, saying they held 
no land of him, owed him no allegiance, and would not 
disband their forces at the bidding of any king upon earth. 
The fiery Edward resolved instantly to march against 
Lliem with an army ; but Charles, not desirous to afford a 
pretext for the re-entrance of English troops into Fiance, 
returned for answer, that he disapproved of the mode of 
proceeding proposed by his brother of England^ and 
meant to rid himself of the Great Companies by another 
expedient. The King of England indignantly replied, 
" that in that case he must trust to his own strength, for 
he could expect no assistance from him." 

King Charles, justly called the Wise, had, in fact, de- 
vised an expedient for ridding France of the wasting 
plague occasioned by these Companies, without the haz- 
ardous experiment either of engaging in war with them, 
or of seeking relief from an army of English, commanded 
by the Black Prince, or his father. 

His purpose was to hold out to these adventurers a 
more distant field of war, which should afford them a 
\rospect of the wealth which they coveted, while theii 
[ epaj'ture would relieve France of their burdensome 



THE GREAT COMPANIES. 147 

presence. A large body was, accordingly, prevailed 
upon to prosecute their trade of arms in the Italian wars, 
where their commander, Hawkwood, an Englisliman_, 
originally of low rank, rose to wealtli and eminence. 

But the King of France pursued the same policy 
on a larger scale. Bertrand du Guesclin, renowned 
for i)is valour, and personally acquainted with the lead- 
ing chiefs of the Companies, was instructed to deal 
wilii them, for the purpose of engaging them in a dis- 
tant expedition. He was at this time a prisoner to John 
Cliandos, having been taken, as we mentioned, at the 
battle of Aurai. 

But the King of France, the Pope, and other princes, 
who saw tlie necessity of Guesclin's agency in this plan 
mediated betwixt him and Chandos, made personal contri- 
butions to pay the lieavy ransom at which his freedom was 
rated, and thus restored him to liberty. The influence of 
this renowned warrior engaged thirty-five of the princi- 
pal chiefs of the Companies, in what was at first repre- 
sented to be an expedition against tlie Moors in Spain, and 
in so far a species of crusade. He induced them to join 
in such an enterprise the more readily that he himself pro- 
posed to accompany them, and accepted the ciiief com- 
mand. The king of France readily gave his consent and 
approbation to this apparently Holy War, and |)resented 
those concerned in it with two hundred thousand francs 
to assist them in their march, caring but little, it well may 
be supposed, whither their road might lead them, pro- 
vided it carried them out of the reairn of France. The 
Companies assembled according to their agreement at 
Chalons upon the river Marne, and from thence took a 
route towards Avignon, then the habitation of the Pope. 
His holiness, much alarmed at the approach of an army 
so composed, sent a cardinal to meet them, to demand 
what troops they were, and with what purpose they came. 
Du Guesclin answered with gravity, that tliey were sinful 
men who had taken the cross against tiie infidels, and were 
marching against tlie Moors, and that they approached the 
footstool of the Pope to request absolution for their sins^ 



148 DON PEDRO, KING OF CASTILE, 

and a sum of two hundred thousand florins, by way of 
ahns to enable them to proceed upon their pious under- 
taking. The absolution was promised by the cardina. 
without any delay or scruple ; but there went more words 
to payment of the money. The Pope would fain have 
satisfied these sturdy beggars witli one hundred thousand 
florins, raised by a tax upon the inhabitants of Avignon ; 
but this did not suit Du Guesclin's policy. " We came 
not," said he, " to pillage the poor, but to receive alms 
from the rich ; the full subsidy must be paid by the Pope 
and his college of cardinals, who have plenty of money, 
and the taxes must be remitted to the poor inliabitants of 
Avignon." The Pope was under the necessity of com- 
plying with this unceremonious request, liberally adding 
to the subsidy the pardon about which these robbers af- 
fected to be solicitous. 

Bertrand du Guesclin, and such captains of the Com- 
panions as he trusted with his secret purpose, had an 
expedition in view very different from that of an attack 
upon the infidels. There reigned at this time in Castile, 
one of the principal Christian kingdoms of Spain, Don 
Pedro, called, for his inhumanity and tyranny, the Cruel. 
He had murdered his beautiful and youthful bride, a near 
relation of the King of France, and, besides innumerable 
other cruelties, had threatened the life of two or three 
brethren by the father's side, and particularly one of 
them, Henry, Count of Transtamara, who stood high in 
the esteem of the world, and was supposed to head the 
numerous party of Castilians whom Pedro's cruelties had 
rendered malecontent. Tlie Castilian monarch had also 
in several ways offended the church, whereby he had in- 
curred a sentence of excommunication, and it appeared 
lo the Pope, it seems, highly fitting and convenient that 
this motley army, formed out of the refuse of all nations, 
should be the executors of his holy purpose. 

Without embarrassing ourselves with the minute par- 
ticulars of the expedition, it "is sufficient to say that Ber- 
Uaiid c'u Guesclin and his army easily dispossessed Pedro 



DRIVEN FROM HIS DOMINIONS. 149 

of the crown which his vices had rendered very Insecure, 
and compelled him to fly to Coruiina. 

Reduced to this extremity, Pedro took the rei-olution 
of going from Corunna to Gascony in person, and solicit- 
ing as a suppliant the formidable alliance of the Black 
Prince of Wales, whose residence was fixed at Bour- 
deaux, from which ca[)ital he governed, as his father's 
lieutenant, all those beautiful provinces which had been 
ceded to England at the peace of Bretigny. 

Pedro's story was that of a lawful monarch dethroned 
and driven from his dominions by his bastard brother. 
He therefore presented himself as an unfortunate prince, 
entitled to the support of all those of his own rank, and 
his desolate condition naturally moved the heart of the 
noble Edward, who deemed it his duty as a true knighi 
to extend his powerful protection to a distressed monarch 
craving succour at his hands. 

There was, however, to be considered the deficiency 
of numbers, and the necessity of being at great expense, 
if the Black Prince should embrace the cause of the fu- 
gitive. All this v\'as pointed out to him by his faithful 
counsellors, who urged him to consider the crimes of Don 
Pedro, and also the great charges which must necessarily 
be encountered, if he would needs succour him. They 
implored the Prince of Wales that he would at least wait 
until he saw what cost his father was willing to bestow 
upon such an expedition ; and they failed not to show 
him, what he afterwards felt to be true by bitter experi- 
ence, that should he, by assisting Don Pedro, lay him- 
self under the necessity of taxing the inhabitants of Gas- 
cony, he must lay his account with losing their regard 
and allegiance. These arguments weighed nothing with 
tlie Black Prince, impressed as he was with the justice 
of Don Pedro's cause, and lending an ear as he did to 
the treacherous promises of that tyrant, who readily en- 
gaged to find treasure, provisions, and whatever was de- 
manded. Edward assembled, therefore, a large body of 
feudal* forces, and took the dangerous resolution of in- 
17* 



150 DON PEDRO RESTORKD TO 

cre&sing it by bands of Companions, whoai he received 
into his army. As large pay was necessarily promised 
to these men, many of whom were Companies' which, 
having aided Du Guesclin in the conquest of Castile, 
and having assisted to dethrone King Pedro, were now 
equally ready to becon)e active in his restoration, they 
uere soon assembled in great numbers. Prince Edward 
set forth with a very considerable army, with which he 
crossed the Pyrenean mountains, and advanced on the 
river Ebro, to a town called Najara, or Navarette. Here 
Henry, chosen King of Castile, met Edward at the head 
of an army still larger than that of the prince, consisting- 
partly of Spaniards, partly of those Free Companions 
whom Du Guesclin had brought into Spain, and who still 
continued under his command, to the number of four 
thousand men-at-arms. The battle was exceedingly fu- 
rious, and fought with great bravery on each side. But 
the conduct and valour of the Black Prince were de- 
cidedly conspicuous, and after a victory as complete as 
any which he had yet won, Edward found no difficulty in 
restoring his ally Pedro to a throne, of which his crimes 
rendered him unworthy. It was the natural and just 
doom of Providence, that the prince should be the first 
sufferer by the ingratitude of the wolfish tyrant whom he 
had assisted, without sufficient reference to the justice of 
his cause. 

The payment of necessary sums of money, the fur- 
nishing of wholesome provisions, in sufficient quantities, 
all which had been liberally promised before the expedi- 
tion, were now, since the victory of Navarette, entirely 
neglected by the ungrateful tyrant ; and the Black Prince 
was at once disturbed by the murmurs of his unpaid sol- 
diers, and distressed by the maladies which began o 
sweep them off in numbers. The heat of the country, 
to which tlie English constitution was not accustomed, 
and the use of strange and unwholesome food, not only 
iiade his men sicken and die, but sowed the seeds of an 
'ncur'able disease in tlie frame of the gallant Prince him- 
self. He therefore returnevl to Bourdeaux with disao- 



THE THRONE OF CASTILE. 151 

pointed hopes, a diminished army, an exhausted ex- 
chequer, and a broken constitution ; and it is observed by 
historians, that the support of tlie tyrant Pedro must liave 
been unpleasing in the siyht of Providence, since it was 
followed by so marked a chan^^e of fortune in so eminent 
a person as that of tlie Prince of Wales. 

Some advantages, however, Prince Edward derived 
from the expedition across the Pyrenees, and he account- 
ed it not the least of them, that he had in his possession 
as prisoner tl'e renowned Bertrand Du Guesclin, of whose 
courage and address it was thought the Black Prince con- 
descended to be somewhat jealous. It is certain, that tlie 
presence of this renowned knight was accounted of such 
importance, that when it was desired first to engage him 
in the Spanish wars, the King of France, the Pope, and 
Henry of Transtamara, were, as we have already stated, 
glad to subscribe for his ransom a sum amounting to one 
hundred thousand francs, for at such a rate was he valued. 
On his second capture, when he had surrendered at Na- 
varette to Sir John Chandos, the knight by whom he was 
formerly taken, it is said the Black Prince formed a de- 
termination that so formidable a leader should not again 
be admitted to ransom. But the wily Frenchman at- 
tained his purpose in the following manner : — Being in 
presence of the prince at Bourdeaux, and answering some 
incidental questions concerning his captivity, Du Gjesclin 
observed, it could not be unpleasing to him, since it was 
attended with so much glory. Edward naturally asked, 
in what that glory consisted ? Du Guesclin replied, that 
the world affirmed that the Black Prince was afraid to 
deliver him from ])rison, on account of his reputation and 
chivalry ; " too honourable a circumstance," he said, " for 
a poor knight like myself.". 

The prince was naturally piqued at a speech which as- 
cribed to him a sentiment of ignoble rivalry, and was 
perhaps the more displeased that he was sensible of the 
truth of his remark. " It is not for fear of your chivahy, 
sir knight, that I keep you captive," said he, m reply ; 
* and, to show you it is not, you shall have your liberty, 



152 TAX ON CHIMNEYS IN GASCONY. 

if you can pay for your ransom one hundred thousand 
francs." 

" VViliingly, my lord," rephed Sir Bertrand ; " and I 
thank your liighness for the lionour of rating me so high." 
By recurrence to the French king, the Duke of An}f)u, 
Henry of Transtamara, and otiier friends, a warrior so 
renowned as Du GuescHn speedily obtained his liberty, 
and was again restored to the wars. 

I have mentioned that the Piince of Wales had impru- 
dently embarrassed his finances by this expensive cam- 
paign in Spain ; and he was now equally unfortunate in 
the mode which lie chose of retrieving tliem. This was 
by a tax upon chimneys, called by the French, fouage, 
which, amounting to a franc upon each chimney, would; 
it was supposed, in five years, discharge the prince's 
debts, as it afforded an income of above a million of 
francs yearly. But the tax was new to the Gascons, who 
displayed a general disinclination to submit to the impo- 
sition. " When we belonged to France," they said, 
" we were never grieved with such assessments ; nor will 
vvc now submit to them. When we vowed fidelity to 
Prince Edward, he swore on his part to protect our privi- 
leges ; and we will not abide by our oath, unless he 
keeps what he has sworn to us." The greatest of the 
Gascon barons, who had been previously engaged against 
their will in the expedition to Castile, caught eagerly at 
this new subject of offence, and combined, so soon as the 
0|)|)ortunity should be fitting, to free themselves from the 
dominion of England. 

The mere pressure of an unpopular tax, though that 
upon the chimneys seems to have been felt as a severe 
grievance, will hardly of itself account for a defection 
which proved so general. But the lieutenancy of the 
Black Prince had been showy and extravagant ; a. fault 
which seldom fails to provoke, on the part of the public, 
dissatisfaction and displeasure. Besides, amid the high 
qualities which few princes could boast in moie perl'ec- 
tion, the Black Prince showed flashes of his father's 
haughty and severe temper, which were at times unplea- 



DISCONTENT OF THE GASCONS. 15.3 

sant to the proud harons of Gascony. altbougli they were 
obliged to endure them at the moment. They were 
galled especially by the bitter reflection that they were 
governed in some measure by tlie right of conquest, and 
that, though Frenchmen by birth, and principal contribu- 
tors to the very victory of Poictiers, which sealed the 
fate of their country, they were still a part of the great 
French nation, while subjected to an English governor, 
who was undoubtedly somewhat partial to his country- 
men. Tiie influence of patriotism was felt more and 
more in Gascony as new grievances arose, and many pi'e- 
texts for discontent were found which would never have 
suggested themselves, had it not been for the influence of 
national feeling and national rivalry. A crisis therefore 
approached which threatened the dominion of England 
in France, and seemed likely to destroy all the influentie 
which Edward HI. and his son had acquired in the latter 
country by such an expenditure of blood and treasure. 



154 . BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Don Pedro of Castile taken prisoner, and assassinated 
by /lis brother Henry — Charles of Vrance fosters the 
disajfections in Gascony, and, at last, claiming the 
rights of Lord Paramount, summons the Black Prince, 
to Paris, to answer the Complaints of certain discon- 
tented Gascons — JMiitual Preparations for War — The 
Earl of Pembroke wastes Poitou — he is enclosed by 
the French in the village of Puyrenon, and, rescued 
by John of C hand os— Ineffectual Attempt of Chandos 
. to recover Saint Salvin, which had been betrayed bv a 
J^lonk to the French — Skirmish at the Bridge of Las- 
boc, in ivhich Chandos is slain — Edward III. sends 
an Army vndcr his Son, John of Gaunt, to Calais — 
The Duke of Burgundy, son of the King of France, 
marches to oppose him ivith a much larger force, but, 
not being able to draw the English from a strong 
positicn, returns to Paris — Predatory Expedition of 
Sir Robert Knolles — Adventures of a Knight in 
KnoUes^s army, who, in performance of a Vow, strikes 
his spear against the Gale of Paris, but, in his return 
through the Suburbs, is killed by a Butcher. 

Two persons of great power and importance watched 
with anxiety the ])rogress of discontent in Gascony, and 
the various embarrassnienls, which, like clouds arising 
upon the disk of a setting sun, overshadowed the latter 
days of the Bhick Prince. 

One of these, though himself no sovereign prince, 
possessed in the time in which he lived, enough of war- 
like fame and personal in^portance to place him upon a 
level with great potentates. Ti}is was Berirand du (jues- 
clin, so often before mentioned, who, having been a kniglu 
of no great power in Gascony, had raised himself by his 
snilitary fame to the rank of a great general, the ally oi 



MURDER OF DON PEDRO. 155 

kings, and disposer of crowns. This warrior, having 
seen ihe change of government which he accomplished 
in Castile, altogether reversed by the victory at Navarelte, 
had, after obtaining his freedom, renewed his intercourse 
with Henry of Transtamara, and combined measures to 
seize the first opportunity of accomplishing a countei 
revolution. The war between the two brothers, Pedro 
and Henry, for the crown of Castile, was again renewed, 
so soon as the decayed state of Edward's health, and the 
embarrassment of his finances became public, and was 
speedily brought to a decision by the advice and assist- 
ance of Du Guesclin. 

Henry took arms with a very considerable force, and 
joining battle with Don Pedro, who defended himself 
with the most desperate valour, defeated that tyrant, and 
compelled him to fly into the castle of JNIontiel, where he 
was instantly blockaded. The castle, though strong, was 
not victualled for defence ; so that Don Pedro and his 
company, which did not exceed twelve men, were com- 
pelled to attempt a passage, by night, through the army 
of the besiegers. They were unsuccessful, and were made 
prisoners ; and so bitter was the hatred between the 
brethren, that Henry of Transtamara hastened in person 
to the lodging of the French knight who had taken Pedro 
prisoner, and as he entered, called out furiously, '* Where 
is that Jewish bastard, who dares call himself King of 
Castile?" — " Here I am," answered Pedro, who had no 
sense of fear, any more than humanity. " 'Tii? thou thy- 
self art a bastard, and I the lawful son of Don Alphonso." 
The two brothers then engaged in mortal struggle ; and 
Pedro, having forced Henry backward over a bench, un- 
siieathed his poniard, and would jiave slain him on the 
spot, had not one of Henry's squires seized Pedro by the 
leg", and turned him undermost, giving him the disadvan- 
tage in the struggle. Henry then availed himself of the 
oi)portunity, and despatched Pedro with his dagger ; a 
woful instance hoW' ambition and rivalry can subdue the 
warmest feelings of kindred and relationship. Thus was 
one great work of the Prince of Wales totally I'eversed 



156 CHARLES SUMMONS THE BLACK PRINCE. 

and undone ; and, unhappily for him, the dethronement 
and deatli of Don Pedro by no means freed him fjom the 
eviis which he had brought upon himself, by espousing the 
cause of that tyrant. 

We liave said that another person besides Bertrand du 
Gueschn watched the progress of the discontents vvlsich 
agitated the English provinces in France, witn the pur- 
pose of profiting by them as opportunity should present 
itself. This was Charles V'l. of France, called the Wise, 
and whose wisdom turned itself so much to the accumu- 
lation of riclies, that he was also entitled tiie Wealthy. 
He had nursed his revenue, and exerted his wisdom with 
the lawful and meritorious purpose of rendering himself 
fit lo oppose the English power in France under which 
his predecessors and himself had suffered so sevei-ely. 
The mode, however, in which he finally found it advisa- 
ble to avow this intention, was a singular contradiction of 
his father's noble maxim, that if good faith were banished 
from the earth, it should at least be found in the breast of 
kings, if it was possible for a prince to be bound down 
by tlie direct words ')f a treaty, King Charles was obliged 
by that of Bretigny to abstain from disputing the unlim- 
ited title of England to the ])rovince of Gascony, vviihout 
any badge of feudal dependence. Yet, though bound so 
strictly by this treaty, the King of France determined to 
encourage the discontented Gascon lords by assuming 
once more the title of Lord Parafnount of that country, 
and by receiving an appeal to his parliament of Paris 
from those who claimed justice at his hands against the 
proceedings of the Black Prince. In vindication of his 
assuming a power disowned by the peace of Bretigny, 
the French pretended that Edward had not so absolutely 
renounced the title of King of France, as he was bound 
by the same treaty to do. The Aict, however was, that 
the opportunity was templing, and Charles made use 
nf it. 

When the French king saw the moment favourable for 
declaring himself, he sent a clerk and a kniglit, both men 
of gravity and emineiice, to intimate to the Prince of 



ANSWER OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 157 

Wales the course which he intended to pursue. These 
messengers found the prince at his court in Bonnloaux, 
and, kneeling before him, craved permission to deliver 
their message in presence of his council. ''^ Speak on, 
sirs," said the prince, little suspecting the nature of their 
mossage. The clerk then read a summons in the name 
of Charles, and directed' to his nephew the Prince of 
Wales, setting forth, that various prelates, barons, knights, 
he. of Gascony, had complained to the King of France 
of grievances sustained at the hands of the said Prince 
of Wales, through evil counsel, and therefore command- 
ing him to appear in person in the city of Paris, and 
present himself before the King of France and his peers, 
to niake answer to the petitions which complained of in- 
jury at his hands. 

The Prince of Wales heard with no little astonishnient 
a summons founded on the right of homage, whicli was 
expressly renounced by France at the treaty of Bretigny. 
His eyes sparkled with indignation, as, looking fiercely 
upon the French messengers, he t>hus replied, " Is it 
even so ? Does our fair uncle desire to see us at Paris ? 
Gladly will we go thither ; but I assure you, sirs, it shall 
be with basnet on our head, and sixty thousand m(;n in 
our company." Perceiving his resentment, the mes- 
sengers dropt on their knees, and reminded him, that for 
their part, they only did the message of him who sent 
them. The prince, however, left them in indignation ; 
and they were counselled by the English lords then 
present to depart as fast as they could, lest their safety 
should be endangered. In fact, when the news of the 
departure of the envoys reached the prince, he sent after 
and arrested them, as being, he ^said, the messengers of 
his own discontented subjects of Gascony, rather than of 
the King of France. They suffered, however, notlnng 
eventually ; but tiie prince retained his purpose of mak- 
ing instant war against France ; while the French king, on 
the other hand, strengthened himself, as was usual at thai 
period, by hiring a certain number of the Free Com' 
965 



156 CHARLES AND THE BLACK PRINCE 

panions, and, secure of the assistance of the numerous 
malecontents in the Gascon provinces, laid aside all 
thouglits of peace, and prepared for a war against Eng- 
land, under auspices more fortunate than those under 
which France had lately fought. 

Charles in this approaching contest had the infinite 
advantage of the general assent of his people, who, fired 
with the reviving hope of national glory and independ- 
ence, pledged themselves to support, with their lives 
and fortunes, the quarrel with England, in which he was 
now about to engage. The peace, wliich had now lasted 
a considerable lime, had also greatly diniinisiied the forces 
at the command of Edward 111. and his son the Black 
Prince. The Free Companies, which might be consid- 
ered as something corresponding to a standing army of 
the period, had been, owing to the want of money, dis- 
missed from the pay of England, and in a great measure 
disbanded, or sent to find employment elsewhere. The 
feudal troops and archery of England herself, whom it 
would have been difficult or impossible to detain in Gas- 
3ony or France for any length of time, after the war was 
at an end, had returned to their native country, and it 
would require new efforts and new expenditure of treasure 
to recall them to the field when their services were most 
necessary. 

On the other hand, the whole kingdom of France was 
replenished with a rising generation, who had neither 
experienced the terrors of the former English victories, 
nor felt any thing save the desire to be avenged of their 
invaders. Charles himself might, indeed, remember the 
disasters of Cressy and Poictiers ; but lie had at the same 
time the satisfaction to know that Edward 111. was now 
in an advanced old age, embarrassed, too, by the discon- 
tent of his subjects, who were unwilling to submit to 
farther assessments for the support of foreign war, and 
by the increasing indisposition of the Black Prince, whose 
body could no longer execute the dictates of his daunt- 
less mind, and who had, moreover, to lament the loss of 
so many brave men, cut off in Spain, less by war than 



PREPARE FOU WAR. 159 

by wasting disease. On the whole, therefore, the King 
of France was prepared, with good hopes, once more to 
revive tiie bloody war which had so long wasted his king- 
dom. Nor did the commencement of the struggle deceive 
his expectations. 

Yet the spirit of Prince Edward flinched not under 
the infirmity of his body. He purposed, as we have al- 
ready hinted, to take the field in person, and advance to 
Paris, at the head of a numerous army. His father had 
again influence enough with his parliament, to obtain 
large subsidies, and levy a considerable army, which he 
despatched to the assistance of the Prince of Wales, 
under the command of the Earl of Cambridge, his 
brother, and the gallant John Hastings, Earl of Pem- 
broke, his brotiier-in-law. The Black Prince received 
also a powerful reinforcement from the Grand Compa- 
nies, who, as their trade was war, were naturally deter- 
mined in their choice of a side, by their reliance on the 
military qualities of the commander-in-chief, for skill, 
valour, generosity and success, and certainly there was no 
man alive who could in these respects be termed the equal 
of the Prince of Wales. Sir Hugh Calverley, whose 
deeds at the battle of Aurai have been already noticed, 
was devotedly attached to his native prince ; and, by his 
interest among the Free Companions, he collected in 
Spain and elsewhere, six thousand lances of this descrip- 
tion, whom the prince, perhaps hastily, sent instantly 
forward, to make war on the territories of such of the 
great Gascon barons as had set an example in revolting 
against ihefouage, or tax upon chimneys, and, as Prince 
Edward supposed, had busied themselves in exciting 
King Charles to summon him before the parliament of 
Paris. 

But although the prince was thus far armed against 
the impending evil, the schemes of Charles., for under- 
tnining the English power in France, were so skilfully 
laid, that they took effect with considerable success. The 
jiroviiice of Ponthieu was seized upon without much op- 
position, an acquisition rendered easy by the intrigues 



160 THE WAR COMMENCED. 

carried on by the friends of France in that district. The 
Dukes of Anjou and Berri, brothers of the king, each at 
the head of a considerable army, the one levied in Au- 
vergne, the other in Toulouse, were ready to in"vade the 
provinces of Gascony and Poitou ; and for some time it 
was difficult to say which party obtained the ascendency, 
so many were the feats of valour, skirmishes, and cap- 
tures of castles, and so various was the success attending 
each of them. 

In another species of warfare the King of France had 
perhaps a more decided advantage. This was in the 
original character of the dispute, the justice of which was 
warmly debated by the gownsmen and churchmen on 
both sides. In this King Edward revived his old claim 
to the kingdom of France, founded upon his denying the 
efBcacy of the Salic law ; an antiquated plea, renounced 
by himself at the peace of Bretigny, and which he would 
certainly have done better to have abandoned for ever, 
and limited his claim to the rights of sovereignty in Poi- 
tou and Guienne, which had been acknowledged in all 
formality by the King of France himself, and by the es- 
tates of that kingdom. In the former case, Edv^ard III. 
claimed the succession in right of his mother, which had 
never been acknowledged by the law of France. On 
the contrary, in preferring a claim of sovereignty to Gas- 
cony, and its dependencies only. King Edward would 
only have founded upon the terms of an existing treaty, 
solicited by Charles himself, while regent, and by the 
estates of his kingdom. Edward III., however, chose 
ro enlarge, as much as possible, the title on which he 
founded, being conscious that men would regard it less 
with reference to its justice and validity, than to thejr 
own passions and partialities. Be that as it may, the 
clergy of France were generally decidedly favourable tc 
the cause of their native sovereign ; and there can be nc 
doubt that the manner in which they recommended and 
enforced upon the public the right of Charles, in the 
iV\frerent provinces possessed by the English, had a great 
effect in producing tlie general disposition to revolt from 



DKATll OF LORD JAMES AUOLEr. 161 

the English to the French monarch, which was every- 
where inanifested. It was with sharper weapons, how- 
ever, than words, that the cause of either king wa.^^ to be 
finally determined, and accordingly, blood flowed iVeely 
on botli sides, in every county of France where the 
English had any footing. 

What appeared in particular to intimate the doom of 
Heaven against the cause of England, was the death of 
some of those remarkable persons by whose assistance 
the Black Prince had often gained his victories, but who 
now were, by various, and some of them insignificant ac- 
tions, compared to the reputations of those to whom they 
happened, altogether removed from the scene, when their 
services would have been most advantageous to their 
great commander. 

One of the most remarkable persons, and equally dis- 
tinguished by valour and talents, was Lord James Aud- 
iey. Seneschal of Poitou, who fell sick and died, while 
the war was at the hottest. This was the son of that 
Loid James Audley, whose conduct at the battle of Poic- 
tiers was so remarkable. His father was now too old for 
the wars, arid had retired into England, where he died in 
1386. The death of Lord James Audley, the younger, 
greatly grieved the Prince of Wales, who replaced him, 
as Seneschal in Poitou, by the celebrated John Chandos. 

As this brave leader was an active partisan in that kind 
of warfare which distinguished the period, he proposed 
to the young Earl of Pembroke to join with him in an 
expedition, at the head of a very considerable force, 
against Louis of Sancerre, Mareschal of France. But 
the-tjarl of Pembroke declined to join Chandos in the 
enterprise proposed to him, listening to the paltry insinu- 
ations of some flatterers, who persuaded him he would 
have little share of personal glory if he went out under 
the command of Chandos, who would engross the 'vhole 
renown of any joint expedition in which they niiL'iit be 
engaged. Sir John Chandos, piqued at Pembroke's re- 



L62 pembuoke's jealousy of chandos. 

fusal to join him, dismissed great part of his troops, and 
retired with the rest to the city of Poictiers. 

No sooner had Chandos thus retired into quarters, than 
t!ie Earl of Pemhroke, with a force of at least two hun- 
dred spears, took the field, with the purpose of winning 
glory upon his own account, and wasting the lands of 
those nobles who were hostile to England. As soon as 
the French lords who held these garrisons, heard that 
this nobleman had declined the company of Lord Chan- 
dos, and was come abroad on his own adventure, tliey 
resolved to gather their forces, and attack him suddenly, 
as a young man whose imprudence had already shown 
him liable to be surprised in such expeditions. They 
combined, therefore, an overpowering force, and attacked 
the Earl of Pembroke and his men at unawares, near a 
village called Puyrenon, slaying a number of men-at- 
arms, and forcing the rest to take refuge in a churchyard, 
which surrounded a building formerly belonging to the 
Knights Templars. The French knights, conmianded 
by the INlareschal <le Sancerre, said among themselves, 
jestingly, " They have got into a churchyard, it is but 
fair to give them time to choose out and dig their graves ; 
and after we have taken dinner, we will visit them, ami 
see how they suit them." But the IVlareschal de San- 
cerre commanded an instant attack. The assault was 
made, but with little success on the part of the French, 
who were repulsed by the English earl and his party. 
Still, as the French drew off, they promised themselves 
belter fortime the next day, for the walls of the Temple- 
house were but thin, and might be easily broken through; 
and, at all events, the party within were ill aj)pointed 
both in food and ammtmition. 

Tiie Earl of Pembroke, who had now reason bitterly 
to lament his foolish "ealnusy of Lord Chandos, despatch- 
ed an esquire, with orders to issue by a postern-gate, and 
tei] the Seneschal of Poitou the danger in which he was 
placed, adding, that he might yet receive succour from 
him if ^e marched Speedily, since he hoped to defend 



JEOPARDY OF PEMBROKE. 163 

his post until noon next day. The esquire went on his 
errand accordingly. 

Early next morning the Fi'ench attacked the Enirlish 
position anew, and persevered from dawn till nine before 
noon, when the assailants began to collect among the 
neighbouring peasants pickaxes and mattocks for the pur- 
pose of undermining the walls. This mode of attack 
being that whicli the English most dreaded, the Earl of 
Pembroke called a second esquire, desiring him to take 
the earl's best horse, and convey to his good friend, Lord 
Chandos, the news of the jeopardy in which they stood, 
conjuring him by a token to come to his deliverance. 
The token was a valuable ring, which Chandos bad for- 
merly given to the young earl. The messenger escaped 
by a postern, and went off at full gallop. It chanced that 
the esquire first despatched had missed his way, so that 
he did not reach Poictiers till nine o'clock. Wlien he did 
arrive, he delivered the Earl of Pembroke's message tc 
Chandos, requiring his assistance. The good knight re- 
ceived it but coldly, as he still resented the young earl's 
having declined to join him, though repeatedly invited. 
He answered indifferently, " there was but little time to 
hear mass ;" a religious ceremony which Catholics then 
laid much stress upon. When the mass was over, dinner 
was announced as ready, and the first course was hardly 
served, when the second esquire arrived, and delivered 
the Earl of Pembroke's later and more pressing message, 
requesting assistance. Lord Chandos \yas still sullen ; 
" to deliver him is impossible," he said, '■' if he is in such 
a strait as you speak of. Let us sit down to dinner — . 
the meat will be cold else." 

But this dogged and ungracious humour was not natu- 
ral to the noble Ciiaados. The first thought of his miml 
having been given to resentment, the next turned nj)i,n 
more exalted sentiments. As the second course \v:is 
served, he raised his head, which he had held depres';eii 
upon his bosom, and said to the knights and scjnires 
around him, " Hear me, sirs ; the Earl of Penibroke i^ 
a noble person, and of high lineage, son-in-law to oui 



164 ' PEMBROKE IS RESCUED BY CHAN DOS 

natural lord, the King of England. Foul shame were ii 
to see hii)) lost, if I may help it ; wherefore 1 will go tc 
his assistance, with the grace of God. JMake ready, sirs, 
for Puyrenon !" All rushed to arms ; and Lord Chan- 
dos, at the head of two hundred spears, made towards 
the village with such despatch, that they had good hope 
of surprising the French who besieged it. But the 
Mareschal of Sancerre heard of the approach of Chandos, 
by spies, and took the resolution of drawing off liis troops, 
and securing such prisoners and booty as they had n)ade 
at the first onset, wiiich last comprehended all the treas- 
ures and baggage of the Earl of Pembroke. The earl 
and h s knights, on their part, also retired from the 
Templo-house with such horses as they had left, some 
mounted two on one horse, and others walking on foot. 
When they met with John of Chandos, the earl and he 
embraced, with tears ; and Chandos greatly reflected 
upon himself that he had not moved on the first sum- 
mons, when he might have readied Puyrenon time enoftgh 
to surprise Sancerre and his forces, who had now retired 
to a place of safety. 

The circumstance, besides illustrating the manners of 
the times, shows also the sort of disputes and rivalry 
which began to take place between the younger English 
nobility and those who stood high among the more an- 
cient chivalry, and which doubtless existed on many 
other, although less memorable occasions than the affair 
of Puyrenon, where such considerable injury was sus- 
tained, by the rashness and presumption of Pembroke, 
while the opportunity of retaliation was lost, through the 
sullen resentment of Chandos. 

But England was not only to view the services of this 
distinguished warrior interrupted and traversed, but also 
to see them for ever ended, and that in a trivial en- 
counter. 

Tlie assault upon the Earl of Pembroke in Puyrenon, 
look place in 1370, (A. D. ;) and about the end of that 
year, a certain monk, belonging to a convent in Saint 
Salvin, a town in Poitou, contrived, out of spite to his 



SAINT SALVIN. 165 

superior the abbot, to betray him and the convent, as well 
as the town itself, into the hands of Sir Louis Saint Ju- 
lien, and an adventurer, called Carlonet the Breton, 
leaders of the French party, who garrisoned it for that 
crown. The Lord Jolm Chandas made several attempts 
to recover this place ; for, although of no great conse- 
quence, he accounted it a diminution of his reputation tc 
have it lost in tliat manner. But the vigilance of Sir 
Louis of Saint Julien frustrated all his attempts. 

Persevering in his purpose, Sir John, in his character 
of Seneschal of Poitou, serit to several knights of that 
country to meet him in the city of Poictiers, on the even- 
ing of the 3ist of December, with the purpose of sur- 
prising Saint Salvin. The Poitevin knights, who loved 
and respected Chandos, obeyed his summons, met him 
accordingly, and their united numbers made up three 
hundred spears. With this retinue, he marched to the 
little town of Saiiit Salvin and descended into the fosse, 
which he prepared to pass upon the ice, as the frost was 
then severe. -The ward r of the castle at this moment 
blew his horn ; and the sound, so unusual at this late 
moment, made the English knights conclude that they 
were discovered. They drew back, therefore, out of the 
moat in wiiich they lay in acnbush, without persisting in 
an attempt, which, if discovered, as they supposed, must 
of course have been rendered impracticable. The watch 
horn, however, had no reference to the attack on Saint 
Salvin, but was designed by the person who blew it to 
intimate to the fortress the arrival of Carlonet the Breton 
at the opposite gate, who came to require Sir Louis of 
Saint Julien to go abroad with him that night, in search 
of adventures, as was the practice of the time. If, there- 
fore, Chandos could have concealed himself for any time, 
however short, tliese two l<nights must have sallied from 
Saint Salvin, which, in their absence, would have been 
an easy j)rey. But the evil fate of this renowned war- 
rior was too strong for his better genius. He retreated 
to a village about three leagues from Saint Salvin, where 
the Poitevin lords, understanding the service of the tim.' 
18 4th Ser. 



.t)6 SKIRMISH AT THE 

Jo be ended, were dismissed to their homes. "Vleantimo, 
Sir John Chandos declared his intention to stay, during 
the next day, being 31st December, in the town where 
he now was. Sir Thomas Percy, who was in his com- 
pany, then asked his permission, since he did not stir 
;i[)road himseh", to go forth to meet adventures on his 
own account. Chandos granted his request, and was 
thus left with a retinue amountiug only to forty or fifty 
sjiears. 

Historians notice, with singular minuteness, the various 
steps by which this great warrior approached the fatal 
close of his life. 

Sir Thomas Percy had not long left the town when 
intehigence reached Chandos that Sir Louis and Carlonet 
were certainly abroad in the country. Now, although 
they were almost the personal enemies of Chandos, yet 
at first he intimated no desire to go in quest of thern. 
He remained for some time in the village, talking with his 
men, wfiile they warmed themselves at the fire, until, as 
if upOn a sudden reHection, he changed his* purpose, and 
declared his intention to ride abroad, in order to return 
to Poictiers. He had not advanced far along the side 
of the river when he heard the neighing of horses ; these 
were the steeds of the French squadron, whose situation, 
had it been understood by the opposite party, was, in 
fact, a very dangerous one. Sir Louis Saint Julien, and 
(varlonet, had, by mere accident, fallen into the rear of 
Sir Thomas Percy's party,* and they were themselves 
followed, though without knowing it, by that of Lord 
John Chandos. In this awkward situation, with one ene- 
my in front, and another in the rear, the French knights 
took the resolution to possess themselves of tlie Bridge 
of Lussac, where they dismounted, gave their horses to 
their pages, and stood to their defence, afraid that they 
might be attacked in front and rear at once. But they 
uere thus far fortunate that Sir Thomas Percy w-as not 
Jiware of the presence of the party of Chandos, and did 
not, therefore, know the difficulty in which the French 
wore i)laced. 



BRIDGE OF LUSSAC. 161 

Chandos, who was the first of the English that ar 
rived, sahited his enemies in this iiianner : — '< Ha ! Sir 
Louis Saint Juhen, and Carlonet, you make no fair war 
riding about by night, and taking towns and captives. 1 
have long desired to see you. J am John Chandos — look 
upon me well ; we shall presently see whether you or I 
are the best men !" As he spoke these words, he opened 
the vizor of his helmet, which he forgot again to close, 
and, throwing himself from horseback, advanced, with 
his axe in his hand, to charge the Frenchmen, who were 
also dismounted. But in the very act of joining with his 
enemy, Chandos slipped his foot, and fell down upon the 
bridge, which was steep in its ascent, and covered with 
hoar frost. A French esquire took tlie advantage, as he 
was rising, and thrust a rapier through his eye into his 
forehead. Tliis was the more easy, because Chandos, 
who was blind of an eye on that side, could not see the 
thrust in time to parry it, and also because his vizor was 
open. The blow penetrated to the brain, and the valiant 
leader never spoke another word. The fight continued 
fierce around his body ; for the French were determined 
to avail themselves of their superiority of numbers, and 
of the great advantage they had obtained, while the 
English were desirous to revenge the death of Chandos. 
The squire who had dealt the fatal thrust was mortaliy 
wounded in his turn ; but, nevertheless, the numbers of 
the French must have gained the victory, had it not been 
that their pages and squires, terrified at seeing the ban- 
ner, and beholding the advance of the formidable, Chan- 
dos, had fled from their masters at the' very first onset, 
carrying the horses off with them. Sir Thomas Percy 
could without difficulty have turned the scale, had he not 
passed too far forward to be recalled by the noise of the 
conflict with Chandos. But to complete the mistakes 
and changeful accidents of this extraordinary night, an- 
other large body of the English party appeared; advancing 
at a round trot, with lances displayed and streamers 
waving in the wind. Tlie Frenchmen, alarmed at this 
lUK^xpected apparition, and unable to escape for want of 



168 iJEATU OF LORD CHANDOS 

liorses, thought it better to surrender themselves prisoners 
to the companions of ChandoSj whom they had well-nigh 
discomfited, than to abide the mercy of these new comers. 
They surrendered, accordingly ; and thus the skirmish 
which, from beginning to end, seemed a blind work of 
fortune, terminated in a manner totally unlike its com 
mencement. 

The death of Lord Chandos was deeply regretted, 
not only by the English and Gascons, but by the French 
themselves, who respected him as the person most likely 
to have brought about a good understanding between the 
Kings of France and England, and a sleady peace be- 
tween the kingdoms. After his death, a considerable 
decay of wisdom, spirit, and conduct, might be observed 
on the side of the English, and the removal of so great 
a general from the field of battle could in no respect be 
made u|) or compensated. 

It is true, that, before the event which we have nar- 
rated here, in order to conclude the subject of Lord 
Chandos, Edward III. had endeavoured "to strengthen 
himself in France, by despatching to Calais, his son 
commonly called John of Gaunt, with five hundrea 
men-at-arms, and a gallant force of archers, with whom 
the Count of Namur united himself as an auxiliary of 
England. 

The King of France, on the other hand, hearing that 
an army, commanded by a son of England, had entered 
Calais, and made frequent incursions into the country 
around, despatched, to oppose him, the Duke of Bur- 
gundy, who was the ablest of his brothers, with a force, 
which, compared with that of the invaders, w'as more 
than seven to one. He imposed, however, upon this 
prince, strict commands, that he should on no account 
\enture upon an engagement, for the recollections of 
forn)er battles lost in spite of the greatest inequality of 
numbers, rendered such a risk extremely unadvisable. 
Thus restrained by the royal command, the Duke of 
Burgundy took post in the vicinity of Calais, between 
S&int Omers and Tournehan, while the Duke of L^an- 



AMBUSCADE NEAR ABBEVILLE. 169 

caster, on the opposite side, occupied a very strong po- 
sition, foitified will) hedges, ditches, and enclosures, whicli 
rendered those who lay there unassailable ; so thai the 
armies faced each other, while little passed that was re- 
markable, except a few skirmishes. 

In the estimation of those times, the character of the 
I)uke of Burgundy suffered considerably in the eyes of 
the public, by shunning an encounter with an inferior 
army ; yet it was precisely by the French attacking an 
inferior number of English, in a post of extraordinary 
strength, that Edward Jll. and the Black Prince had 
gained their immortal trophies. The Duke of Burgundy 
was, notwithstanding, so much hurt by his situation, that 
he applied to the king, his brother, requesting permission, 
either to give battle to the English, or to depart from a 
position in which his reputation suffered. 

Charles preferred that alternative which should put the 
country in the least peril. He therefore commanded the 
Duke of Burgundy to raise his camp, and come to hiin 
at Paris. The French prince effected this mandsuvre so 
cautiously, that the first intimation which the English had 
of their enen)y's retreat, was the fires which consumed 
the tents and huts which they had lately occupied. .(A. 
D. 1369.) The Duke of Lancaster, on the retreat of 
the great French army, determined to march into France, 
and advancing from Calais to the eastward, left severe 
marks of his displeasure upon the villages and cultivated 
country, subjecting to especial rigour those who had 
shown themselves unfriendly to England. 

As the Duke returned to Calais, after a wasteful tour, 
little that was interesting took place, although the follow- 
ing turn of fortune may be worth mentioning : — Hugh de 
Chastillon, who was master of the cross-bows of France, 
commanded the French garrison of Abbeville. This 
gentleman took horse, with ten or twelve attendants, re- 
solved, seeing the Duke of Lancaster was tending that 
way, to view with his own eyes, the preparations made 
to receive him. Now, while he was on this service Sir 



170 SIR NICHOLAS LOUVAINE. 

Nicolas Louvaine, an Engjislmian, was reconnoitring in 
the same direction. He had been a seneschal of the 
King of England iti that country, was well acquainted 
with all its fastnesses and bypaths, and had ins.nuated 
himself into a ruinous village hard by the gates of Abbe- 
ville, where no ambuscade could^ be suspected. This 
Sir Nicolas had been made prisoner the year before by 
jhe same Chastillon, and he felt as an injury the high 
sum of ten thousand crowns, which he had been obliged 
to pay as his ransom. It was to his infinite joy, there- 
fore, that he saw, in the person of a cavalier who ad- 
vanced carelessly, and ill prepared for battle, (for his page 
was riding his war-horse, and carrying his helmet,) his 
late captor, Sir Hugh of Chastillon. " Come on," said 
Louvaine to his party, being twenty men-at-arrns, " yon- 
der is our prey, whom I would rather possess, than all 
the world beside !" He rushed then suddenly on Chas- 
tillon, with his lance in rest, calling aloud, " Yield ye, or 
die I" — " To whom must I yield ?" said the captain of 
the cross-bows, astonished to find himself overpowered, 
when he supposed himself most in security. — " To your 
old acquaintance Louvaine, who requires from you the 
ten thousand crowns which you exacted as his ransom." 
Accordingly, it became Chastillon's turn to rescue him- 
self upon the terms which Louvaine prescribed. 

Such accidents as these might impoverish or enrich 
the military men to whom they happened, but the gene- 
ral effect of the war on both countries was that of ex- 
hausting them both of men and money. Still the French, 
confiding in the wisdom and patriotism of Charles, sub- 
mitted cheerfully to very heavy taxes, confident that they 
would be employed in defending the independence of the 
country. The assembly of estates patiently acquiesced 
in the imposition of the same taxes, which the nation had 
paid for tha ransom of King John ; and also in a tax of 
hearth-money, in effect nearly the same with the for/ age, 
which, when imposed in Gascony, cost the Black Prince 
so much of his popularity ; — so different is the good-will 
of the people in the payment of taxes, which they con 



SIR ROBERT KNOLLKS. 171 

ce'ive necessary for their defence, compared to that with 
which they regard impositions which are bestowed upon 
objects, either altogether idle and unnecessary, or directed 
to uiipojiular and unnational purposes. 

A marauding party, far less numerous than that under 
tlie Duke of Lancaster, was commanded by Sir Robert 
Knolles, tliat distinguished officer, who, from a mean ori- 
gin, had raised himself to great distinction by his interest 
among the Grand Companies. He was now commission- 
ed with an army of thirty thousand men to lay waste the 
kingdom of France on belialf of Edward HI. — a waste- 
ful mode of warfare, inconsistent with the idea held out 
of permanent conquest. 

Knolles took his departure from Calais at tlie head of 
his troops in the end of July, and moved forward by Te- 
rouenne and Artois, making easy marches, halting regu- 
larly every night, and burning and ravaging the country. 
(A. D. 1370.) Occasionally Sir Robert Knolles, who 
appears to have retained some old remnants of the ad- 
venturer, used to accej)! of sums of money, in considera- 
tion of which he spared particular districts, and forbore 
those violences in which he was accustomed to indulge. 
This was a course of conduct so misrepresented to Edward 
HI. that in the end it had like to have cost Sir Robert 
dear. In the* meantime, this predatory general's marcli 
was directed upon the city of Paiis ; not that he could 
hope to gain possession of it, but from the desire to spread 
contusion and terrorjn the neiglibourhood, and perhaps 
to provoke a part of the inhabitants to issue out and take 
the chance of battle. He approached the city so near, 
that the fires which he raised in the neighbouring vil- 
lages were plainly seen from tlie walls of Paris ; and a 
knight of the English ainiy had an opportunity, and, as 
It proved, a fatal one, of accomplishing one of those vows 
of chivalry which were fashionable at the period ; of 
which the more desperate and extraordinary, always added 
the more to the renown of those by whom they were 
achieved. This adventurer had, it seems, made a vow 
that he would strike his spear upon the gate of Paris, 



172 ASPECT OF FRENCH AFFAmS. 

For this purpose, be rushed forth from the ranks, and, 
followed by his squire, whom be soon outstript, rode up 
to tlie gate, where he found the barriers open. There 
were several French knights standing by the barrier, who 
marvelled what this single man was about to attempt ; 
but when they saw him satisfied with striking his lance 
upon the gate, and reining round his courser to return, 
they laughed, and said, " Go thy way for a brave knight, 
that hast well accomi)lished thy vow !" The citizens of 
Paris and the suburbs had not the same sympathy with 
the adventurous knight as was entertained by tiiose who 
were his brothers in chivalry. He learned the difference 
of these feelings upon his return ; for a butcher, who had 
seen him pass through the suburb, waylaid him in his 
return, and, coming behmd him with a cleaver, struck 
him from his horse. Tlie squire, alarmed for his ma".er's 
fate on seeing his horse return without a rider, advanced 
into the suburb far enough to behold the knight prostrate 
on the ground, and four or five strong mechanics healing 
upon him at once, like smiths uj)on a stithy. He (led, 
therefore, to carry to Knolles's camp the account of the 
knight's misadventure. 

Sir Robert Knolles encamped that night within sight 
of Paris ; and we shall presently give an account of the 
termination of his adventurous expedition, which was 
concluded by an engagement betwixt him and the cele- 
brated Bertrand du Guesclin. 

In the meantime, the events of the war continued un- 
favourable to England. An astrologer of that time might 
have said, that as a star auspicious to England had set in 
the horizon, so another had arisen friendly to France, and 
in the liighest degree hostile to her enemy. Soniething 
of the kind actually happened in the terrestrial \\or!(l : 
for in this year the gallant Black Piince was- lost to his 
trade of arms, and the formidable Bertrand du Guesc.uv, 
resumed that command in the service of Charles, wliich 
occasioned his being surnamed the Restorer of the French 
Monarchy. 



REVOLT OF LIMOGES. 173 



CHAPTER X. 

Revolt of lAmoges to the French — the Black Princt 
besieges and recaptures it — Death of the Black Prince 
— Bertrand du Guesclin made Constable of France 
— the Constable defeats the English at Pont f^olant — 
Marringe of the Dvke of Lancaster to a daughter of 
Don Pedro the Cruel, by which alliance Henry, the 
Reigning Prince of Castile, is rendered an enemy to 
England — Defeat of the English Fleet by tha Spanish, 
off Rochelle — Rochelle delivered by the Mayor to the 
French — The Constable captures Poictiers — Thoiiars 
besies;ed, and surrenders to the French — Charles of 
France drives the Count de Montfort from Bretagne, 
and declares that Duchy forfeited to the French Crown 
— the Breton Lords rise in insurrection, and. drive 
the French from their country — Death of the Consta- 
ble du Guesclin, while besieging Chateau neuf du 
Randun — Charles of JYavarre deprived of the Do- 
minions he held in France — Horrible Death of Charles 
of JYavarre — Death of Charles V., surnamed the 
Wise. 

You have been already informed that Edward, the re- 
nowned Black Prince, had never enjoyed his usual health 
since the expedition into Spain. It was in vain that as 
difficulties multiplied around him, his high spirit strut^gled 
against the decay of strength and the increase of the de- 
bilitating disorder, which appears to have been dropsical. 
Yet it was not the will of fate that this celebrated cham- 
pion sliould depart from the scene without one final ray 
of victory shining upon his banner. This parting favour 
was granted in a case in which his haughty spirit was 
deeply interested. 

Among other advantages gained by the French in cou 



, 174 SIEGE OF LIMOGES. 

sequence of the general dissatisfaction of the Gascons 
against the English, the revolt of the strong city of.Limo- 
ges was one of the most distinguished. Tliis city had 
yielded itself up by the instigation of its bishop, whose 
recommendations induced the inhabitants to revolt, and 
admit a French garrison ; the surrender was made to the 
Duke of Anjou, and Bertrand du Guesclin remained in 
the province of the Limosin, to protect this important 
acquisition by his presence. 

The Piince of Wales, on the other hand, was dread- 
fully offended, not only with the bishop, w"ho had formerly 
been his personal friend, but with the citizens of Limoges, 
who had so lightly changed their party. He could not 
now mount a horse ; but, hastily ^assembling an army of 
about twelve hundred lances, and two thousand archers, 
he caused them to move forward upon Limoges, he him- 
self being borne in an open litter at the head of his 
troops. The garrison treated with scorn his summons to 
surrender, for they confided in the strength of their forti- 
fications, which had indeed been constructed by the prince 
himself. Immediately upon receiving a scornful refusal to 
give up the place, the Prince of Wales laid close siege to 
the town, which he pressed on by means of mines driven 
under the walls, for which service he was provided with 
the best artisans of the period. Bertrand du Guesclin 
kept the field, in the meantime, with two hundred spears, 
with which he made incursions on the territory which was 
yet English, and endeavoured by various means to divert 
the attention of the Prince of Wales from the siege of 
Limoges. It was not, however, in the power of Du 
Guesclin to bafile the last and almost dying efforts of 
this celebrated hero, who remained totally regardless of 
the diversions with which Du Guesclin endeavoured to 
amuse him. The prince pressed on the siege with una- 
bated vigour, attending entirely to the conduct of the 
mines, until tne engineers had informed him that they 
were prepared to throw down a part o''the wall sufficient 
to admit his entering in battalion. Accordingly, the use 
of gunpowder in such mines being as yet unknown, the 



SIEGE OF LIMOGES. 175 

miners had orders to set fire to the props by wliich they 
supported the wall, during the time they had carrietl on 
their operations. Of course, a portion ol 'the wall, about 
thirty feet in extent, fell into the ditch and filled it up, 
while the English division appointed for the storm rushed 
over the ruins. The gates, at the same time, were secured 
by another part of the English army. All escape was 
impossible, and the unfortunate inhabitants had it only in 
their power to prostrate themselves in the streets, and 
implore with piteous cries the compassion of the prince, 
who was determined to grant none. The slaughter was 
indiscriminate, and while the prince himself was borne 
into the town upon his litter, the guards who attended him 
slew men, women, and children, with their pole-axes and 
swords. Four thousand persons were put to the sword, 
without distinguishing the unarmed from the armed, men 
from women, or children from adults. The sight of four 
gallant Frenchmen defending themselves with much 
Dravery, first waked Edward's sympathy. Each was 
matclied with a noble and almost royal antagonist ; for 
the four men-at-arms were engaged hand to hand with the 
Duke of Lancaster, and Earl of Cambridge, brothers to 
the Prince of Wales, with the Earl of Pembroke, his 
brother-in-law, and with another distinguished English 
warrior. The Black Prince stopped his litter to beliold 
this sharp conflict, calculated to awaken his sense of gen- 
erosity, which remained lively, though his humanity was 
extinguished. While the prince's litter stood still, that 
he might behold the pleasing spectacle of a desperate 
combat, the French knights took the opportunity to sur- 
render and yield up their swords to him. Tliey were 
dismissed with praises, and the heart of the conqueror 
was somewhat appeased towards the vanquished by the 
chivalry which these combatants had displayed. But the 
victor's anger revived when the Bishop of Limoges, first 
author of the revolt of the city, was brought before him. 
In the first heat of his wrath, he commanded him to be 
beheaded ; and it was with difficulty that he was fiuall) 
irduced to spare his life. 



176 DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE, 

The retaking of Limoges was the last niilitaiy feat (>! 
this renowned warrior ; and we regret to trace in it so 
much of the cruelty of the period, and so little of its 
generosity. We have only farther to mention, that ift 
the beginning of the next year, the Black Prince had the 
great misfortune of losing his eldest son, and, his own 
illness increasing, he was determined to fry what his native 
air might avail for his recovery. He substituted his 
brother, the Duke of Lancaster, to be his representative 
in the principality of Aquitaine ; and he left for ever the 
country in which he himself had gained so much glory, 
and upon which he had inflicted such extensive calami- 
ties. This great prince died at Westminster, on the Sth 
day of June, 1376 ; ^nd his father, exhausted by age, 
and various causes of mortiBcation which overclouded his 
iast years, did not long survive him. Edward 111. died 
on the 21st of June, 1377, in the sixty-fifth year of his 
age. In resuming our story, we shall have to mention 
circumstances which happened before the date of his 
death. 

While fate was thus removing the two greatest enemies 
of France, the king of that country was exerting himself, 
by the best means, the promotion, namely, of merit and 
worth, to provide for the protection of his reahn. An 
office, always most important, but at this lime particularly 
so, had become vacant in 1370 ; this w'as the situation of 
Constable of France, the highest military dignity in that 
kingdom, of the most important consequence, from the 
power which it conferred, and especially when the king, 
whicl) might be said of Charles V., was not warlike in 
his person, or in the habit of heading his armies. The 
vacancy was occas'oned by the resignation of a good 
knight, named Moreau de Fionness, who was become, by 
age and infirmities, unfit to discharge the duties of the 
office, which he therefore resigned intt the king's hands 
It had been the custom to bestow this high office on per 
sons of the most eminent rank ; but, by the uni versa, 
suffi-ages of his kingdom, Charles now resolved to confei 
so important a charge, with reference less to the dignit^i 



OFFICE OF CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 171 

than the worth of the person to be employed. On this 
footing-, all eyes were tinned to Bertrand dii Guesclin, as 
the most valiant knight, the most expert leader, the mo3t 
fortunate and successful warrior, who fought under the 
banners of France. Nay, since the Black Prince was 
imable to bear armour, he was universally considered as 
the best general living. 

Du Guesclin, sunnnoned to the king's presence, rode 
from the district of the Limosin to Paris accordingly ; but 
when he heard that the king, with full assent of all his 
nobles and peers, had pitched upon him to be Cotistable 
of France, he modestly stated his inca[)acily for such an 
important office, and the difficulty which he, a poor 
knight, must expect in making himself obeyed by the 
great and powerful princes of France. The king's reso- 
lution was taken upon too good grounds to be evaded by 
this modest plea ; he insisted upon the charge being ac- 
cepted by the warrior who had shown himself most capa- 
ble of bearing it. Du Guesclin then asked to limit his 
acceptance with a condition, that in case complaints 
should be brought against him, the king should deign to 
refuse credence to any which the informer was not ready 
to vouch in presence of the accused ; a reasonable 
request, which was readily granted. 

But although a distinguished warrior was thus invested 
with full military command in France, there were still 
circumstances affecting in a great degree the welfare of 
the kingdom, the consideration and decision of which the 
king reserved for himself. Greatly as that wise prince 
esteemed Du Guesclin, he saw danger in the Constable's 
suffering bis high ideas of chivalry to lead him into the 
error of precipitating a general engagement, by which 
France had so often suffered, and which was at all times 
too deep a stake to be hastily adventured. He there- 
fore resolved, while he resigned to the Constable the 
unlunUed direction of the French army, that he would 
suffer him at no time to possess a force so strong as might 
encourage him to venture a battle on a large scale, trust- 
ing that when he fought upon a small one, his knowledge 



178 X)U GUESCLIN CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 

of war could not be excelled, if, indeed, it. was equalled, 
by that of any of llie English leaders. This restriction 
tlie king reserved within his own breast. To have ex- 
pressed it, might have implied distrust of his general, 
and still more of his soldiers. He therefore readily ac- 
ceded to the new constable's proposal, to ride after Sir 
Robert Knolles ; yet it is said, furnished him with no 
more men than should enable him to watch tije enemy, 
but not to bring him to aclion. But tlie faithful Du 
Guesclin augmented his forces, by treasure of his own, 
and for that purpose sold a number of rich jewels and 
other articles of value. 

The time, indeed, was very favourable for an attack 
upon the army of Knolles, This commander, as you have 
been already informed, had marciied to the gates of Paris, 
witliout being able to strike a considerable blow, so that 
many of the men of rank who served with him, were dis- 
posed to be discontented with their commander's author- 
ity. It had been his purpose to lead his arniy into the 
duchy of Bretagne, as the safest place for winter quar- 
ters, considering that there would be then a necessity for 
dividing themselves into separate bodies, when an active 
enemy like Du Guesclin might, in the opinion of the 
experienced general, attack them with advantage. Lord 
Grandison, Lord Fitzwalter, and other English nobles, 
refused to retire into Bretagne, in obedience to Sir Rob- 
ert Kr.olles. He was of too mean rank^ they said, to 
command noblemen like themselves ; they therefore drew 
oft' from his army, which was thus much weakened, and 
quartered themselves in the marches of Anjou and Tou- 
raine, not holding such communication as martial duties 
required, but straggling separate, each leader according to 
his own pleasure. 

While disunion was thus gaining ground amono- the Eng- 
lish, and want of discipline arising in proportion, Ber- 
tiand du Guesclin obtained news of all their proceedings 
from a traitorous kniglit, called Sir John Menstreworth, 
R"ho privately corresponded with the French, and found 
an opportunit} of discov^-ing to them a very important 



TREACHERY OF MENSTREWOR TH. 179 

secret. The new constable, with his forces, had already 
advanced on an enlei'prise against Sir Robert Knolies, 
then in quarters in Bretagne. The artful Knolies was re- 
joiced to hear of his approach, resolving within himself 
that he would assemble secretly and suddenly the troops 
who had lately left iiis standard, and thus collect a body 
of forces witli which h.e could not doubt that he would be 
able to overpower Du Guesclin, and his party. Lord 
Grandison, Lord Fitzwalter, and the other discontented 
nobles, received therefore private instructions to repair tc 
the camp of Sir Robert Knolies, for the accomplishment 
of this purpose ; and as the orders intimated the approach 
of battle, none of them hesitated to obey the sununons. 
On the other side. Sir Robert called to his assistance Sir 
Hugh Calverley, and other captains of the Companions. 
All this plan, and these summonses, were known to the 
treacherous Sir John Menstreworth, and by Inm comnm- 
nicated to the Constable of France, who resolved, by his 
active movements, to prevent the plan of the E'nglish 
general, and strike a blow at the forces out of which 
Knolies proposed to form his army, while they were yel 
separated from the main body, p^or this ))urpose, aware 
of the march of Grandison, Fitzwalter, and their party, 
the constable contrived to meet them at a place called 
Pont Volant, half way before they could join with 
Knolies, and attacking them with nearly double their 
numbers, reduced them soon to extrenuty. The English, 
however, alighting from horseback, defended themselves 
for some time manfully on foot, with swords, s|)ears, and 
bntlle-axes. They could not, however, long endure so 
unequal a combat ; and as their pages, who held their 
horses, fled with them so soon as the day was lost, the 
principal part of the nobles eniraired remained on tho 
spot, either slain or prisonei's. This blow, which enve 
the greatest spirit to the French, seemed proportionaHy 
discouraging to the English ; and, as it happened so re- 
cently after Du Guesclin had become constable, it gained 
bim honour in the eyes of the king, and of the nation, as 
affording an earnest of his important services. The in>- 



60 EXECUTION OF >TENSTREWORTH. 

nediato consequence of the defeat of the Engliin at 
Pont Volant was, that Sir Robert Knolles, ahea^y pre- 
judiced in King Edward's opinion for having taker* 
rewards for sparir g the country of France, fell into such 
suspicion, that he liesitated for some time to trust himself 
within the bounds of Britain. But the treason of Sir 
John INlenstreworih becoming public, the explanations of 
the veteran Knolles were favourably received ; and as 
the real traitor fell into the hands of the l^ritish, and was 
executed for his perfidy, Knolles became entirely re- 
stored to King Edward's lavour. 

The Constable of France did not long slumber after 
his success at Pont Volant, but taking the field again at 
Candlemas, seized many fortresses, and with prevailing, 
though by no means uniforui good fortune, carried on the 
war in Guienne and the neighbouring counties. 

The Duke of Lancaster now supported at Bourdeaux 
a princely state, not inferior to that of the Black Prince 
himself, whom he resembled in courage and pride, though 
he was unequal to him in good fortune, or rather in that 
military science, by which good fortune is in a great mea- 
sure secured or improved. An alliance of his also, though 
the duke was naturally led into it by what seemed the 
voice of prudence, and was certainly that of ambition, 
contributed to force him into the false line of policy ado|it- 
ed by tlse Black Prince himself. Don Pedro the Cruel, 
who died by the hand of his brother King Henry, before 
the Castle of Montiel, as we have already stated, left be- 
hind him two daughters, the eldest of whom was undoubt- 
edly heir to his kingdom of Castile. These orphan |irin- 
cesses were now residing in Gascony, pledges for a sum 
of money which had been borrowed by their fatb.er. 
John of Gaunt was now in the flower of his age, a w id- 
ower, by the death of his wife the late Lady Blanche ; 
and, flattered by the splendid title of King of Castile, to 
which he aspired, he gave his hand to the eldest of these 
unfortiuiate princesses, while the second was wedded" a< 
the same time to his brother the Duke of Cambridge. 
B) this unhappy step, the Duke of Lancaster added tc 



DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH FLEET 181 

tiic dlfticulties arising from the French war, so many and 
-su numerous in tliemselves, the gloomy prospect of a 
qiiaiTei with Henry the King of Castile, who became in 
consequence a very violent and dangerous enemy to 
England, which was not long in experiencing the effects 
of his enmity. 

In 137 J, the Duke of Lancaster, having returned to 
England with his royal bride, the Earl of Pembroke was 
appointed to sail as commander-in-chief of the English 
forces to the principality of Aquitaine. He had a fleet 
of forty ships, having on boai'd a considerable body of 
troops, witl) supplies of money and ammunition essen- 
tially requisite to the support of the sinking cause of 
England in the south of France. Thus provided, he 
sailed for Rochelle ; but as he approached that place, he 
was encountered by a powerful fleet belonging to Henry 
of Transtamara, the actual King of Castile, who was 
called upon imperiously to espouse the cause of the 
French, the Duke of Lancaster having in riglu of his 
wife the princess Constance, laid claim to his kingdom. 
(A. D. 1372, June 23.) The two navies of England 
and Spain encountered fiercely with each other, and the 
combat endured until the evening of the second day, 
when the Spaniards obtained a complete victory. lE is 
said this superiority was owing not only to the size of the 
Spanish vessels, which were larger than those of the 
English, but to the use of cannon on the part of the for 
mer — a weapon for the first time made use of in naval 
war. The greatest part of the English fleet was burnt, 
taken, or sunk ; and the Earl of Pembroke, often alrea- 
dy mentioned, son-in-law to Edward 111., remained, with 
many other knights of quality, prisoners of war to the 
Spaniards. Such were the first evil fruits flowing from 
the (uarriage of John of Gaunt with the daughter of Don 
Pedro the Cruel. The failure of this attempt to send 
supplies to Guienne, left that province, with all parts ol 
the principality of Aquitaine, wellnigh at the absolute 
pleasure of the Constable du Guesclin, who alternately 



183 SURRENDER OF ROCHELLE. 

by address and by arms, took and garrisoned many places 
of strength, some with very little resistance, others with 
none at all. 

The case of Rochelle may be mentioned as an instance 
how much the feelings of the Gascon people were now 
turned against their late masters the English, Shortly 
alter the naval battle which we have already mentioneJ, 
and which was fought off this harbour, the mayor of Ro- 
chelle, one John Chaudron, moved no doubt, by the issue 
of tlie battle and defeat of the English, contrived a mode 
of surrendering that important seaport to the King of 
France. The English, however, had still a garrison in 
the castle, of which Philip Mansel, an uneducated man 
of no peculiar sagacity, was. the temporary governor. 
The mayor having secured a parfy of burgesses in his 
plot, undertook to circumvent the thick-headed com- 
mander of tlie citadel. He invited Mansel to a civic 
feast, where he exhibited a letter und-er the broad seal of 
England, (one of an old date,) shrewdly suspecting that 
the governor could not read a word of it. " You per- 
ceive from this letter," said the mayor, boldly exhibiting 
it to the ignorant governor, " that the king has command- 
' ed the garrison of the castle and that of the city, to be 
altel-nately reviewed by the commanders of each ; where- 
fore 1 will make my musters to-morrow, if it pleases you 
to review them ; and you, if it please you, shall bring 
your force out of the castle, that 1 may inspect them in 
my turn in the manner here appointed." 

The incautious Mansel, affecting to believe and under- 
stand words which had no existence in the letter, was in- 
duced to bring his men out of the castle towards the field 
wjiere the rendezvous was to be held. The mayor, see- 
ing the stratagem sc far successful, interposed a strong 
body of armed citizens between the garrison and the 
castle-gate, and compelled them to lay down their arms. 
It was probably by t!ie patriotism of this mayor of Ro- 
chelle, that the city thus won from the English by tho 
Courage or ingenuit\ of the citizens, was not surrendered 



SIEGE OF THOUARS. 183 

CO the French crown absolutely, but only unde stipula- 
non that the citizens of Rochelle should have leave to 
demolish the castle, and be secured against the election 
of another ; also, that the}' should never be separated or 
alienated fi-oin the kingdom of France ; and thirdly, that 
they should be allowed to coin money upon the same 
conditions on which tlie privilege was enjoyed by the 
city of Paris. 

Tlie strong town of Poictiers also augmented the tri- 
umphs of tlie gallant constable. A skirmish shortly after 
took place of little impoi-tance in itself, but of considera- 
ble weight from its consequences. The Lord de Greilly, 
renowned in our former history byname of the Captal d(j 
Buche, and often mentioned on account of his gallantry, 
was made prisoner, and, as a captive of great consequence, 
was speedily despatched to Paris. His worth and char- 
acter in" war were not better known, than the constant 
fidelity with which he had served the cause of the Eng- 
lish. The King of France, therefore, followed the pol- 
icy which the Prince of Wales was thought to have 
adopted respecting Bertrand Du Guesclin, when the lat- 
ter was made prisoner at the battle of Navarette, that is. 
he would not fix any ransom upon the unfortunate war- 
rior, who died in the course of five years an unredeemed 
captive. Authors have said that the Captal, as a firm 
adherent of Edward and of the Black Prince, lost his 
healtli and spirits upon their decease, and pined to death 
of melancholy in bis confinemeiit. 

In the meantime, the last post possessed by the English 
in Gascony was the town of Thouars, then a place of con- 
siderable strength. The constable speedily formed the 
siege of the place, and pressed it on with such vigour, that 
the English lords who were enclosed in it, consisting of 
the noblest and best of those partisans whom the nunie- 
rous skirmishes and sieges had left, were contented to 
come to a species of terms not unusual at that time. They 
engaged to surrender against next Michaelmas, provided 
that the King of England, or one of his sons, should not 
before that time bring them succour in person. 



184 SURRENDER OF THOUARS. 

Edward, to whorn this agreement was communicated, 
expressed liiinself liiiilily incensed, that a prince-so un- 
tv^ariike as Charles of France, who was seldom seen with 
armour on his back, or a lance in his hand, shotdd give 
him so fnuch more trouble tlian ail his martial predeces- 
sors, and once more swore to take the field in person, 
with the purpose, not only of relieving Thenars, but of 
invading, and finally conquering France. The king put 
to sea accordingly, with a considerable army, his destina- 
tion being the seaport of Rochelle ; but the winds and 
waves were obstinately adverse to the course he pro- 
posed ; and, after a desperate struggle, King Edward, to 
whom fortune had been so long favourable by land and 
sea, saw himself absolutely obliged to return to England, 
without relieving the fortress, 

Thouai-s was therefore left to its fate. The barons of 
Guienne, who remained faithful to England, ofFefed in- 
deed, at tiie very last, to advance with twelve liundred 
spears to the relief of this important place, provided the 
besieged would accept of their assistance. But the 
knights enclosed within the town had plighted their faith 
to surrender to the constable, usiiess Edward, or one of 
bis sons, came in person to their relief. Thenars, tliere- 
fore, was given up to the French, on the terms of the 
treaty. 

The cause of England in France being at this low ebb, 
the King of France thought he might very safely take 
the opportunity to avenge himself upon the Count de 
]\]ontfort, Duke of Brefagne, whose father had been one 
of the principal instigators in fostering the original war 
between England and France. The prince at whom 
be aimed this blow was, indeed, already wellnigh forced 
from his dominions by two of his own subjects, the Con- 
stable du Guesclin, and Oliver de Clisson, both steady- 
adherents of the French, 'and equally inimical to the 
Enirlish. Having gained this great advantage over John 
de Montfort, Charles resolved to pay no attention to the 
neutrality secured to him by a special article of the treaty 
^f Bretigny. But, disregarding this engagement, he de- 



THE ENGLISH INVADE BRETAGNE 185 

termined not to permit a person so hostile to liim to reign 
as a petty sovereign in Bretagne, and accordingly drove 
liiiii out of his own country, and obliged him to take 
reliige in England. Edward, however, on the arrival ot 
his ally and relative, in this expatriated condition, was 
not wanting in such exertions as might have a chance of 
repairing tlie sinking affairs of the Duke of Bretagne. 

He raised an army of fifty thousand men, which, under 
the command of the Duke of Lancaster, landed at Ca- 
lais, in summer, 1372, with the purpose, on the duke's 
part, of emulating his father's deeds, restoring the Engfish 
affairs, and replacing tlie Duke of Bretagne in his govern- 
ment. But, as was tlie fate of all Edward llTs. latter expe- 
ditions, no result follow^ed worthy of such great preparations. 

The Duke of Lancaster sallied from Calais, at the 
head of his army. He had with him the Earls of War- 
wick, Stafford, Suffolk, with Lord Edward Spencer, 
riiey march.ed with precaution, being closely watched by 
three armies of the French, one commanded by the Duke 
of Burgundy, one by the Duke of Bourbon, a third, con- 
sisting chieHy of cavalry, headed by the indefatigable Du 
Guesclin, which followed in the rear of the English, cut- 
ting off all who strayed frou) their standard ; and, thus 
enclosed and observed, the English could make little 
spoil upon the country, without exposing themselves to 
uistant retaliation. 

Their generals, too, differed in opinion. John de 
Montfort pressed the Duke of Lancaster to lead his troops 
into Bretagne, insisting that the reconquest of his duchy 
was tlie chief object of the war. The Duke of Lancas- 
ter, on the other hand, was determined to march to Bour- 
deaux, to establish the English power in Gascony. Vic 
accordingly j)recipitated his course to Bourdeaux, and at 
length reached that .city, but not without losing four-lifthi: 
of his army in a hurried and disastrous march . thither. 
Nor were the Duke of I5retagne and the Duke of lian- 
caster ever afterwards on the same footing of good un- 
derstanding which once subsisted between them 



IS6 DEATH OF UU GUESCLIN. 

King Charles, perceiving the dissension between the 
Duke of Bretagne and his powerful ally, thought the 
time was favourable to his great object of uniting to the 
crown the duchy of Bretagne, whose sea coasts, and the 
friendship of its sovereigns, had so often afforded facility 
to invasions from England. He accordingly proposed 
the forfeiture of this powerful vassal to the Estates of 
France, and obtained their sentence to that elTect, But 
the Breton lords, altliough unfriendly to the Duke's Eng- 
lish aliiance, were attached to their independence, and to 
tlie De Montfort family. Instead of confirming them in 
their love for France, by uniting them with the empire, 
Charles provoked their resentment by this attempt at 
confiscation. The nobles of Bretagne returned to the 
allegiance of their duke, and readily assembling in arms, 
drove the French out of the bounds of the dukedom, 
and invited home John de Montfort from his exile in 
England. The issue of these events belongs to the next 
reign. A truce had concluded the bloodshed of this war 
for a period of one year. King Charles himself was 
taken ill, with little hope of recovery. 

An incident occurred which tended to sadden, in no 
small degree, the thouglits of his dying bed. This was 
the death of the valiant Du Guesclin, who held, by the 
king's personal choice, with so much advantage to the 
country, and glory to himself, the baton of High Con- 
stable of France. He had been employed in the war in 
Bretagne, and still more recently in that of Guienne •, 
and had in botli conducted himself with the same gal- 
lantry and success which he had all along exhibited. 
'J'he last act of liis life was laying siege to the Chateau 
Neuf du Randun. He had summoned the fortress, in 
terms which were boldly but lespectfully answered by 
the commandant. On his refusal to surrender, Du Gues- 
clin pitched his tent before the place, and pressed it by 
a close siege. It is said, with little probability, that the 
melancholy inspired by the obstinacy of the resistance, 
first brought on disease in this great captain. Bertrand 
Du Guesclin must, however, have been too well acquaint- 



CHARACTER OF DU GUESCLIV. 1 S7 

ed with the chances of war, to feel, as a great misfoitiinej 
the prolonued opijosition of a petty fortress. He fell ill, 
however, frum whatever cause, and became speedily- 
conscious that he was u))on his death-bed. Willing to 
expend his last spark of life in the service of the country 
to which it had been dedicated, Du Guesclin sent ihe 
conunandant of Chateau Neuf du Randun, a positiv^e 
summons to surrender the place instantly, if he desired 
to profit by his intercessions with the King of France in 
his favour. The commandant, moved by the resolute 
and severe tone in which this messaL^e was delivered, de- 
clared he would deliver the keys of his fortress to the 
Constable of France, but to no leader of inferior degree. 
He was conducted, therefore, to the tent of Du Gues- 
clin ; but he was no longer alive ; and the conunandant 
was comj)elle(l to lay the emblems of submission at the 
feet of a lifeless corpse. 

Thus died, in the very act of reconquering the dis- 
memliered provinces of his country, a champion than 
whom the rolls of history contain lew braver or more 
successful. Du Guesclin was not exempted from the evil 
qualities of the time, for his valour was occasionally sul- 
lied by cruelty : but his rise from ordinary rank to great- 
nc-.^s, was the effort of his own high talents, and, employed 
as they were in the service of his country, those talents 
could not be too much admired or praised. It was not 
his least merit that all the liberal donations of land and 
treasure confei-red on him by the king-were uniforndy 
applied by him to the public service ; so that Charles, 
though conscious what he owed to this great and success- 
ful general, could hardly devise the means of affording 
him a recompense for his services. To fill up the vacancy 
occasioned by his death. King Charles recommended to 
his council, that Oliver de Clisson, Guesclin's friend and 
companion in arms, a Breton, loo. like himself, should 
be appointed to succeed him. Meantime, thougdi now 
urTected by disease, certainly incurable, whatever was its 
origin, Charles V. still studied the great purpose of his am* 
bition. vvhicli was the re-union of France into one klu^docn. 



188 DEATH OF CHARLES OF NAVARRE. 

This desirable object l:ad met with a great obslacle in 
the Kitijj; of JVavarre, Cliarle-s the Bad. Tliis prince had 
claims, as he pretended, upon tlie crown of France it 
self; and, besides, lie was entitled to various jiosstssions 
in several parts of that kingdom, but especially in Nor- 
mandy. To dispossess him of these was tiie object of 
King ('harles V's. dying policy ; he revived, therefore, 
against the King of Navarro an accusation of iiigh trea- 
son, as having administered poison to tlie royal person of 
his liege lord. This,' as a high feutial delinquency, 
necessarily inferring the forfeiture of tlie fief, had been 
reserved as a charge againsi Navarre, when the tims of 
making such an accusation with eiitjct should at leogth 
arrive. The noxious draught was said to have been so 
potent, that Charles V. lost his hair and his nails, anc re- 
tained to the end of his life the marks of having tf.ken 
\)oison. Yet though \ari()us other points of discussion 
had arisen between the ])rinces, and more than one truce 
had been entered into, the afliiir was never judicially 
brought forward, until the expulsion of the English from 
so UKUiy places of importance in France had rendered 
any rebellion of Charles of Navarre of less consequence. 
The wicked jjiince was deprived, by a sentence of the 
Estates, of such dominions as he still held in France. 
His being condemned in this celebrated process, renders 
it seldom necessary to mention him hereafter ; wherefore, 
we anticipate the course of time, to narrate, in this place, 
the lujrrible death by which he closed an existence, which 
was but a tissue of crimes. 

Continuing his course of viciotis habits as a man, and 
political intrigues as a prince, till he was full sixty years 
old, tlie difficulties which Charles the Bad had incurred 
in tiie v.'ars between Spain, England and France, obliged 
this prince to demand a heavy capitation tax from his 
subjects of Navai're. He proposed that the wea.thy in- 
iiabitants shoukl pay ten francs, inferior persons five, and 
the rest of his subjects one franc each. The deputies 
representing tlie dillerent bodies and towns of the king- 
dom of Navarre assured him, that as they were not yei 



DEATH OF CHARLES THE WISE. 189 

acijuitted of a tax formerly laid upon them, they were 
not able to endure tliis new imposition, and therefore 
conjured him to have mercy on his suhjects. By way 
of answer to these remonstrances, Charles caused the 
deputies to he enclosed in a strong-walled garden, where 
he had conferred with them. They were thus strictly 
confined, and sparingly supplied with meat and drink, while 
Charles caused tlie heads of three of their number to be 
struck off, in order to intimidate the others. How this 
tragedy would otherwise have ended, is uncertain ; for 
Heaven, in its own time, and by extraordinary means, 
put an end to this wicked prince's tyranny. 

The King of Navarre's habits of profligacy had so far 
reduced his constitution, that he was ordered by the phy- 
sicians to swathe himself in a vestment steeped in spirit 
of wine. By the same advice, his bed was warmed with 
a chauffoir of hot coals ; and he had used these means 
of recovering natural heat repeatedly without accident. 
But while he was agitating these cruel resolutions against 
the deputies of liis subjects, and using this course of 
bringing himself to warmth, " by the pleasure of God," 
says Froissart, " or of the devil, the fire caught to his 
sheets, and from that to his person, swathed as it was in 
matter highly inflammable." Before he could be res- 
cued, he was burnt to the bowels, yet survived fifteen 
days, in indescribable wretchedness. Such was the hor- 
rible end of the wicked King of Navarre. 

We return to the purposes of King Charles of France 
upon his d(;ath-bed. While he meditated and endeav- 
oured to execute the changes already noticed, his own 
life was drawing near to a close. He died a victim, it is 
said, not very probably, to the poison so long before ad- 
ministered by the King of Navarre ; and his death was 
felt by the country with deeper regret than that of a 
sovereign is often regarded. Quiet, sedate, temperate in 
his passions, viewing clearly, weighing deliberately, and 
wisely selecting the objects of his policy, Charles nt;ver 
rashly changed, and rarely ultimately abandoned them. 
Though born in warlike times, he was himself no wariior ; 
967 



190 ACCESSION OF CHARLES VI. 

and this was a fortunate circumstance, since he was never 
liable to be driven forward by the vehement desire of 
personal distinction, or the sense of personal shame, which 
hurried his predecessors, Philip of Valois and John, into 
the fatal fields of Cressy and Poictiers. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Accession of Charles VI., when only twelve years oj 
age — Regency of the Duke of J^njoii, who seizes the 
Treasures of Charles V., which he afterwards em- 
ployed in advancing his otvn claim to the Cfotvn of 
Sicily and JVaples — An English army under the Duke 
of Buckingham sent to the assistaiice of Coimt de 
JWontfort, ivho promises to support them, hut makes a 
Peace ivith France, and compels his English Allies to 
evacuate Brciagne — Disorders in Flanders — Insur- 
rection of the Ghentois, under D^Arteville — The 
French espouse the part of the Earl of Flanders, and 
the English that of the Insurgents — Defeat of the 
Insurgents at Rosebecque — Marriage of Charles VI. 
— Expedition of the Bishop of JVorivich — the Bishop 
ivorsted, and compelled to retreat to Calais — Expe- 
dition of the Duke of Anjou, to establish his claim? 
to the Throne of JVaples — his Failure, and Death — 
Adventures of tivo Captains of Free Companions, 
Geoffrey Tete-noir and Amergot Marcell — Unsuccess- 
ful Attempt of the Duke of Lancaster to conquer 
Castile, the crown of which he claimed in right of his 
Wife, the daughter of Don Pedro the Cruel — Wreck 
fa French Fleet assembled in the Harbour of Sluyse 
for the Invasion of England — Arrest of Oliver de 
Ciisson, Constable of France, by the Duke of Bre- 
tagne — his Imprisonment, and Ransom. 

Unfortunately for the kingdom of France, the suc- 
cessor of Charles the Wise, who was also named Charles. 



ANJOU APPOINTED REGENT 191 

oeing the sixth king so called, was at this time only 
twelve years old : and there was a necessit}'^ for appoint- 
ing a regent. Tlie Duke of Anjou, the eldest brother 
of the deceased monarch, had been one of the most ac- 
tive leaders during his life, and was supposed to be pos- 
sessed of considerable talent ; he was a mortal enemy to 
the Englisli, and a principal actor during the late reign 
in making war upon them in the south of France. They 
accused him also of treachery in breaking his word of 
parole ; and his character in general did not stand very 
high for truth and sincerity. 

This prince obtained, however, the regency by ap- 
pointment of the Estates, but the education and personal 
care of the king was not trusted to the Duke of Anjou ; 
the Duke of Burgundy, the king's uncle by the fatlier's 
side, and the Duke of Bourbon, who bore him the same 
relation by the mother's, being appointed his immediate 
personal guardians. 

Unhappily for France, the regent Duke of Anjou had 
a private interest of his own entirely different from that 
of the kingdom at large. The last Queen of Sicily and 
Naples was the celebrated Joan, who possessed these 
fair provinces in her own right. She was a profligate 
and infamous person, who, besides leading a vicious course 
of life, had rid herself of her husband, Andrew, by as- 
sassination. It is said, that one day this unfortunate 
prince found her weaving a cord made of silk and gold 
so remarkable in appearance, that he was induced to ask 
what purpose she designed to apply it to. Joan truly 
answered, " it was designed to hang her husband with ;" 
and shortly after caused this cruel assassination to be per- 
formed by the very cord in question. At the period of 
her death, this unhappy queen, by the counsel and ad- 
vice of the Pope, bequeathed her crown and dominions 
to the Duke of Anjou, who, with the flattering prospect 
before him, of a kingdom which was to be his own, was 
little disposed to pay due attention to the interests of that 
country of which he was regent for his nephew. One 
of his first resolutions, (and certainly one which could 



192 ANJOU*S CLAJM TO SIClLTf AND NAPLES. 

not be vindicated on any principle of morality,) was to 
seize upon the treasures ot' the late King Ciiarles, his 
brother, who. by his policy and economy, had amassed 
large sums of gold and silver, wiiich he kept concealed 
in the castle of Melun. The sum amounted, it is said, 
to seventeen millions of francs. Violence, and even 
threats of death, were unscrupulously employed, to make 
the old officers of Charles communicate the knowledge 
of his treasure. They were at length obliged to produce 
it ; and the Duke of Anjou took possession of this mass 
of wealth. 

The first effort of the new government, divided as they 
were by the various claims of the princes of the blood, 
was exerted to procure a settlement amongst them ; and 
for some time at least, their desire of a relaxation of taxes 
seemed to intimate a sincere wish to alleviate the heavy 
burdens of the people. This flattering prospect disap- 
peared under the disunion of the princes of the ' lood 
royal. We have already said that the Regent Duke of 
Anjou seized upon the treasures of his brother Charles 
v., without having any personal title to do so ; he em- 
ployed them, as I will hereafter show you, in an attempt 
on Naples and Sicily — a purpose which proved totally 
useless to himself, and dangerous to France, on which it 
entailed a long course of disasters. 

There was at this time a schism in the Roman Catho- 
lic Church ; that is, two Popes had been chosen, who 
were acknowledged in opposition to each other by differ- 
ent kingdoms of the Christian world, and both of whom 
aspired to wield the sword and the keys of Saint Peter. 
The one, who assumed the name of Urban, resided at 
Rome , the other, under the title of Pope Clement, held 
his seat of church government at Avignon, in tlie south 
of France. Each had his separate college, of cardinals, 
and each affected the power and authority of the full 
papal sway. 

The Duke of Anjou had no great difficulty in prevail- 
ing upon the anti-pope, Clement, to declare in favour of 
his title to the crown of Naples and Sicily, under the 



EXPEDITION TO BRETAGNE. 19JJ 

bequest of Queen Joan. He did so with the greater 
-show ot* authority, as he alleged tliat tlie deceased Joan 
liad put all her dominions and seigniories at the disposal 
of the Church, and that, therefore, the Pope had the 
strongest reason for supporting and defending her subse- 
quent bequest to the Duke of Anjou, which was inadu 
by his consent. 

Wliile, therefore, Anjou was pursuing his own ends, 
the English might have made considerable, and perhaps 
successful efforts, for the recovery of the dominions which 
they had lost in France. Of these dominions, Calais, 
Bourdeaux, and Bayonne, places which had to be gar- 
risoned at a great expense, were the cliief remains of 
Edward Ill's, conquests which his successor retained. 
They were important towns, and required large garrisons. 
Cherbourg and Brest were also at this time in the hands 
of the English. (A. D. 1378.) That nation had been 
admitted into th« former town by the King of Navarre 
when he lost his other dominions in Normandy ; and the 
Duke of Bi'etagne had given up Brest to them in the 
like manner, when he found that the French kin"- was 
likely to expel him from his duchy. 

It was after much entreaty that the English Parliament 
consented to the continuance of the heavy taxes neces- 
sary to the defence of these possessions, and for the 
maintenance of a lingsring warfare, which had not been 
of late years gilded over either by national glory or suc- 
cess. They did consent, however, and their doing so 
was absolutely necessary to maintain the war in Bretagne ; 
for, although the duke had returned to that country, in 
consequence of the invitation of his subjects, who were 
determined to resist their subjection to the crown of 
France, still it was impossible that he could be successful 
in maintaining the independence of Bretagne or his own, 
without assistance from England. 

A large army was therefore sent into France, by the 
way of Calais, under the command of the Earl of Buck- 
ingham, afterwards known as the good Duke Humphrey 



194 STATE OF FRANCE AND ENGLAND. 

of Gloucester, uncle to King Richard IT. This <brce 
did little more than waste the neighbourhood aftei the 
fashion of tlie later ELnglish invaders ; and when ihey 
advanced towards Bretagne, in which province they were 
destined to serve, the death of Cliarles V. had inspired 
their ally, John de iVJontfort, witli tlie hopes of uiaking 
a separate peace with France, witliout embarrassing him- 
self with the claims of his allies of England.^ The 
reason of tliis dereliction was, that he found his subjects, 
altliough attached to his person, and determined against 
subjection to France, yet equally offended with his strict 
alliance with England, and indisposed to admit these con- 
federates into their strong places and castles. Tiie duke 
was therefore induced to try whether he could be ad- 
mitted to peace with the fVench government of the day 
by a separate treaty, now that the death of the king, wjio 
hated him personally, had removed every obstacle to his 
becoming connected will) France as a vassal. With this 
view, following a policy which was that of a perfidious 
age, De Montfort, on the one hand, invited the English 
to lay siege to Nantz, the capital town of Bretagne, as- 
suring them that he would support them with a sufficient 
anijy ; while, on the other, he negotiated for a separate 
peace with the authorities who liad succeeded to the 
government of France. He found little difficulty in the 
execution of his purpose ; and, being received by the 
French into their alliance, he dictated to his late allies 
the English, as a measure of necessity, the evacuation 
of the territories of Bretagne, which they had entered 
at his request. It is remarkable, that notwitlistanding 
this striking instance of perfidy, the Duke of Bretairne 
retained so rnucli influence with the French and English 
as to be able again to impose himself upon both in the 
character of a mediator. 

Both these kinudoms, indeed, were at this Uin<: in a 
situation unfavourable alike to foreign and domestic pol- 
icy, and wliich obliged them to submit rather to the' course 
of events, tlian attempt to direct them. Charles VI. of 
France, and Richard II. of England, were both minors. 



DTSOKDERS IN FLANDERS. 193 

Neither was of distinguished capacity, though both of 
good dispositions. Each was held in the management 
of uncles or near relations, who quarrelled among them- 
selves, pursued their own interests, with little regard to 
those of their sovereign, and entirely neglected those du- 
ties which they were solemnly bound to discharge. 

The condition of the two kingdoms resembled each 
other, like that of the sovereigns. The people, in either 
country, exhausted with taxation, and with all the evils 
of a burdensome war, had shown themselves mutinous 
and insubordinate ; and the great insurrection of Wat 
Tyler and the commons of England rivalled in its hor- 
rors the Jacquerie of Finance, and the still-continued mu- 
tinies of Paris. In a word, the state of the two king- 
doms resembled that which is told of the hound and the 
deer, who exhausted themselves in a long course, until 
the stag became unable for a last effort at escape, wliile 
the dog was equally incapable of a final attempt to se- 
cure his prey. 

Abroad, both kingdoms were embarrassed with factious 
neighbours, — the Flemings, for example, whose nume- 
rous and constant intestine divisions formed a tempta- 
tion to the French and English to take a part in their 
dissensions. 

Before giving an account, therefore, of the intestine 
discords of the princes of the blood at court, the rash 
expedition of the Duke of Anjou to Naples, and other 
matters concerning France alone, we will say something 
of the disorders of Flanders, in which France and Eng- 
land were as usual interested. 

You remember the fate of Jacob d' Arteville the brew- 
er, at one time the uncontrolled demagogue among the 
citizens of the great towns in Flanders, and at length 
slain in a tumult by the inhabitants of Ghent. This 
person had a son named Philip, who, undeterred by his 
father's fate, and possessed of his father's popular talents, 
contrived to raise himself to as much authority among 
his fellow-citizens as ever was possessed by his father, 
though the ally of Edward III. This was no sudden 



I9G INSURRECTION OF THE GHENTOIS 

achievement. Philijo d'x^rteville, appalled perhaps by 
his father's fate, remained during early life estranged 
from all the objects of popular ambition, and living much 
as a private citizen. But a set of events were on the 
eve of taking place, which tended in their consequences 
to call him into public view and action. 

The people of Bruges, with the consent of the Earl 
of Flanders, had meditated certain improvements on the 
channel of the river Lys. This gave great umbrage tc 
the citizens of Ghent, lest the course of the river should 
be interrupted ; and a faction was formed in that city, 
distinguished by wearing white hats, at the head of which 
was placed John Lyon, a burgess, who had once been in 
great estimation with the Earl of Flanders, but now 
adopted the popular side, and became that prince's bitter 
enemy. 

The wearers of the white hats rose in mutiny, de- 
feated and killed the baillie of Ghent, who attempted tc 
subdue them in the name of the earl, and made sallies 
from the town, burning the earl's castle of Andreghen. 
Several places in Flanders made common cause with 
Ghent ; while the earl threatened the city with severe 
punishment for the loss and insults to which l>e had been 
subjected ; and with that purpose he besieged, or rather 
blockaded, the town with little effect. The great popu- 
lation of the Ghentois enabled them to keep the field, 
notwitlistanding the displeasure of the earl ; and although 
many citizens disapproved internally of the violence of 
the white hats, no burgher dared publicly dissent from 
their proceedings. The insurgents obtained several ad- 
vantages over the earl, and even compelled him to raise 
the siege of the place. Still it was apparent to wise meUj 
that the white hats were falling in reputation ; and their 
leader John Lyon having died under suspicion of poison, 
It was thought impossible to find any man of sufficient 
courage or influence to supply his place ; and thus a se- 
vere attack from the opposite party was likely to over- 
throw the insurgent faction. At this crisis Philip d'Arte- 
ville emerged from obscurity, and rose to the head and 



1N3URRECTICN OF THE GHENTOIS. '97 

management of the insurgents of Ghent, securing his 
authority by many acts of arbitrary power. D'Arteville 
was specially encouraged to the part he acted by the 
mstigation of a subtle citizen called Peter Dubois, who. 
before promising him his interest in the city, thus ques- 
tioned l)iin, whether he possessed the qualities necessary 
for a demagogue. '• Can ye bear yourself high," said he, 
" and be cruel among the commons, and especially in 
such things as we shall have to do ? A man is nothing 
worth, unless he be feared and dreaded, and at the same 
time renowned for cruelty. Thus must the Flemings be 
governed ; and you must have no more regard for the 
life of man, or pity for their sufferings, than of the life 
of the brutes which we kill for food." Philip d'Arte- 
ville assented to this lesson ; and by the recommendation 
of Dubois, and the recollection of his father's original 
popularity, he was chosen governor of Ghent, and leader 
of the insurgents in Flanders. 

Thus were the Earl of Flanders, and the citizens of 
his towns, once more in open arms against each other. 
The French, espousing, as formerly, the cause of the 
Earl of Flanders, despatched forces to his assistance ; 
and the English government, though distracted by domes- 
tic confusion, failed not, as usual, to send to Calais an 
army to assist D'Arteville and the insurgent citizens. 

The French Prince, who had the greatest personal in- 
terest in this revolt of Flanders, was Philip, Duke of 
Burgundy, son-in-law and heir to the earl of that country. 
To him, therefore, the Earl of Flanders naturally carried 
his complaint, stating, that these traitors, the insurgents of 
Ghent, iiis own native liegemen, had destroyed the house 
in which he was born, broken to pieces the font in which 
he was cliristened, done him every manner of despite, 
and were now likely to ruin his remaining heritage. In 
all this the Duke of Burgundy saw the necessary desola- 
tion of a heritage that should one day be his own, and 
therefore, having much influence in the administration of 
Prance, he lesolved that the king his nephew, and all his 
17* 



198 BATTLE OF ROSEBECQUE. 

peers, should march into Flanders, and fight against (hose 
insurgent burgesses, who were likely to lay that fine 
country entirely waste, or declare it independent of its 
earl and his nobility. Accordingly, the King of France, 
under the guidance of his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, 
marched into Flanders at the head of eighty thousand 
men. 

The war was conducted with great vigour on the part 
of the French.' Yet Philip d'Arteville, on this trying oc- 
casion, showed both dexterity and courage. From Ghent 
and the confederate towns he collected a numerous army. 
Those who fought under him were arrayed in cassocks of 
different colours, to mark the various towns they belonged 
lo ; they were armed chiefly with pikes, and fought en- 
tirely on foot, forming one main battalion or division. 
Their captain, D'Arteville, alone kept a good horse be- 
side him, not for the purpose of flight, but for that of fol- 
lowing the French in the chase, which, he doubted not, 
would be the consequence of the battle. The country, 
divided by rivers and canals, was favourable to the Flem- 
ings. 

After some lesser skirmishes, the two armies encounter- 
ed each other in a pitched battle near the town of Rose- 
becque. The Flemings, for a time, made a most despe- 
rate and gallant defence ; but as they were attacked by 
the flower of the French chivalry, headed by the princes 
of the blood, and by the king in person, the insurgents 
were at length broken by the charge of the horses and 
lances. (A. D. 1381, Nov. 27.) As the knights and 
men-at-arms gave no quarter to an enemy, whom they 
reckoned so inferior to themselves, twenty-five thousand 
men were left slain upon the field. Philip d'Arteville 
fell bravely fighting ; and the victory was so well im- 
proved, that most of the towns which had been in insur- 
rection, submitted peaceably to the dominion of France, 
though Ghent still held out. 

Shortly after he had been thus replaced in his domin- 
ions, Louis, Count of Flanders, died, and the Duke of 
Burgundy became established as a very great prince, en 



MARRIAGE OF CHARLES VI. 199 

joying not only his deceased father-in-law's seign orles, 
vvhich comprehended the whole country of Flanders, but 
bis own dominions of Burgundy and Artois, — forming to- 
getlier a strong, compact, and powerful principality, which, 
though now its lord was so nearly connected with the 
crown of France as to be its principal regent, became in 
after times a dreaded enemy of that power. 

About this time, the King of France, by the advice of 
the Duke of Burgundy, was wedded to a beautiful Ger- 
man princess, Isabella, daughter of the Duke of Bavaria. 
It was remarkable that the young prince declined acced- 
ing to the n)atch, until, contrary to the usage of princes, 
he was permitted to see the princess to whom he was to 
be betrothed. He was delighted with her external beauty, 
but had no means of perceiving the bad qualities of the 
mind which were lodged in so beautiful a form. Mean- 
while the duke took the opportunity of the king's German 
match, to make an advantageous bargain for his own son, 
with the daughter and heiress of Albert, Count of Zea- 
land, HainauTt, and Holland, affording the prospect of a 
succession which might make a formidable addition to the 
dominions of Burgundy and Flanders. 

From the bloody field of Rosebecque, in which the power 
of the insurgent Flemings had been broken, the young 
King of France hurried back to his own capital, of Paris, 
which had been for a considerable time more or less in 
mutiny against him, as formerly against his father Charles 
V. The Parisians had rendered their city in somn degree 
tenable by building walls, digging trenches, drawing bar- 
ricades across the street, and thus impeding the entrance 
of the military ; and they themselves had assumed the 
title of maillotins, or malleters, from the mallets w'ith 
which they were generally armed. In order to overawe 
the young king, they disj^layed before him this force, 
amounting to thirty thousand men ; but, instead of being 
daunted, Charles was provoked by their assuming an ap- 
pearance of menace, and, despising their numbers, entered 
his capital as if by force of arms, and seized, withoul 
scruple, upon two or three hundred leaders of the mal- 



200 EXPEDIT ON OF THE 

letters, several of whom were put to death for some suc- 
cessive days, in requital of former acts of insubordination. 
The gates of the city were also pulled down, the citizens 
disarmed, and the insurrection for the time was efFeclually 
subdued. 

England, weakened as it was by external losses and 
internal mutiny, was still too powerful not to be appealed 
to during these times of confusion. When the Flemings 
were in insurrection, the English, though they ridiculed 
the idea of giving them pecuniary assistance, which 
D'Arleville required, were yet disposed to send troops to 
the continent, to avail themselves of the general confusion. 

With this view, two propositions were inade to the 
British Parliament." By the one, John of Gaunt, on re- 
ceiving an allowance of forty thousand pounds, or there- 
abouts, declared himself willing to undertake an expedi- 
tion into Castile ; but as the piu'pose of this must have 
been a conquest for his own benefit, without any corres- 
ponding national advantage, the Parliament declined en- 
tering upon this proposal, which was afterwards, however, 
unfortunately resumed. 

They were more willing to listen to a proposal made 
by the Bishop of Norwich, for the support of the Flem- 
ings. This military prelate had already distinguished 
himself by quelling some insurrections in his own bishop- 
ric. He now offered his services, upon certain terms, of 
money to be paid, to raise three thousand men-at-arms 
and three thousand archers, which he proposed to trans- 
port to Calais, and there act in behalf of the Flemings. 
This was also in some measure a religious undertaking ; 
for the warlike bishop, who declared stoutly for the rights 
of Pope Urban in the schism of the church, made it a 
principal object of his expedition, to remove his compet- 
itor Clement, whom he held to be an antipope, from the 
"My of Avignon. The nobles of England thought well 
of this enterprise of the bishop ; but while they were 
in deliberation upon the subject, the battle of Rosebec(|U6 
was fought, in which D'Arteville was killed, and his anriy 
of insurgents otally defeated, whereby the whole country 



BISHOP OF NORWICH 201 

jf F'landers fell to the French interest, which was natu- 
rally embraced by the Duke of Burgundy, son-in-law 
and successor of the last earl, Louis of Flanders. Then, 
indeed, the English government blamed their own inde- 
cision, and began to censure each other, for not having 
sent timely succours to D'Arteville. " Had tliese poor 
Flemings," they said, " who fought so well in their own 
rude manner, been joined by but two thousand English 
spears and- six thousand archers, not a Frenchman would 
have escaped death or captivity. But there is a good 
time to come. Tlie French king has conquered Flan- 
ders ; we will conquer it again for Richard of England.^' 
This species of reasc-ning induced many distinguished 
men, as Sir Hugh Calverley and others, to join the expe- 
dition under the Bishop of Norwich, although its chance 
of success was greatly diminished by the defeat of 
Rosebecque. 

The martial prelate took the sea accordingly, and land- 
ed at Calais the 23d day of April, 1383. When the 
English arrived at this place, the Bishop of Norwich was 
in great haste to move against the Earl of Flanders ; 
although, strictly speaking, his commission limited him to 
attack and destroy those only who owned Clement as the 
Pope. Some disputes there were upon this subject ; but 
the fiery prelate was not to be restrained by remonstran- 
ces, nor disposed to limit his commission to the letter. He 
defeated an army of thirty thousand French and Flem- 
ings, in the French interest, and made himself master ot 
Gravelines and Dunkirk, Burburgh, and several other 
towns ; and besieged Ypres, which was valiantly defended. 
The besiegers sent to the people of Ghent, who had still, 
notwithstanding the defeat at Rosebecque, remained in 
insurrection against the Earl of Flanders ; and as they 
joyfully obeyed the summons, and came in large numbers, 
with great hope of success, the siege was closely pressed. 
The King of France, therefore, instigated by the Duke 
of Burgundy, his uncle, assembled an army of twenty 
tliousand men-at-arms, and more than threescore thousand 
of other trojps, for the purpose of relieving Ypres. 



202 RETREAT OF THE ENGLISH 

This news alarmed the bishop, whose force was too 
weak to ab'^de tlie arrival of such an army. The siege 
was raised m such haste and disorder, that the besiegers 
took different routes to secure themselves ; some march- 
mg towards Burburgh, under Sir Hugh Calverley and 
Sir Tlioinas Trivet ; and the rest of the army, under the 
personal command of the bishop, retreating towards 
Gravelines. The party under Calverley halted for some 
time at the town of I3ergues. The French^ host ap- 
proached them just after they had occupied the place. 
" It was beautiful," says Froissart, " to behold this royal 
armament, their banners and pennons flying, their spears 
and helmets glistening against the sun, their number so 
great tliat it could not be ascertained, and their spears 
appearing like a thick wood !" Sir Hugh Calverley was 
at first inclined to have fought the French at Bergues, 
disdaining all difference of numbers ; but on better re- 
flections, withdrew to tl)e town of Burburgh, which was 
stronger, though unfortunately the houses were most of 
them thatched, and thus liable to be set on fire. 

Here the party of English defended themselves val- 
iantly for some time, until the King of France ordered a 
great number of fagots for filling the ditches of the place, 
as one determined to carry it by storm. A small piece 
of silver, called a blank, was paid to each peasant who 
should bring a fagot, and on these terms the ditches were 
soon filled. In this extremity, the English leaders were 
glad to compound for permission £0 evacuate the place 
safely, and return to Calais. Gravelines, whither the 
greater part of the English had retired, and where the 
bishoD commanded in person, was surrendered in like 
manner, and on the same conditions as Burburgh, 

This expedition of the Bishop of Norwich gave little 
satisfaction to the English ; and though it certainly was 
not more useless than most of those which had lately 
been undertaken in France, the bishop underwent both 
censure and fine for its bad success. John of Gaunt, the 
Duke of Lancaster, was rather pleased than otherwise 
with the unfortunate issue of the Bishop of Norwich's 



ANJOU'S NEAPOLITAN EXPEDITION. 203 

ittempt ; yet he might have learned, from the fate of the 
Duke of Anjou, wliose siuiation in the court of France 
nearly resembled his own in that of England, that he 
might be a loser, rather than a gainer, by the enterprise 
wliich he himself meditated, even if be had succeeded 
in the commencement. The following is a brief account 
of the Neap^olitan expedition, which we have j)ostponed 
till now, though it actually took place so early as 1382 : 
— The Duke of Anjou, 1 have told you, had made free 
with the treasures of his brother Cliarles V., in order to 
support the claim of succession, which the Pope and the 
Queen Joan had given him in Sicily and Naples. Daz- 
zled with tiie prospect of a kingdom, he unwarily sacri- 
ficed the real power which he possessed as Regent of 
France, for the romantic project of making himself a king 
in Italy, His brother, the Duke of Burgundy, who ex- 
pected to succeed him as Regent, encouraged iiim in his 
de.;perate enterprise. 

The Duke of Anjou employed the u^ealth which he had 
acquired, in levying an army, which, in the days when the 
Free Companies were everywhere to be found, w'as, while 
there were funds to pay them, a matter of much ease. 
He acquired the aid of the Earl of Savoy, who joined 
Anjou with a considerable body of his followers. In his 
progress through Sicily, the French prince coined money, 
and assumed the titles of King of Naples, of Sicily, and 
Jerusalem, Duke of Apulia, and of Caiabria. On the 
other hand, his competitor, Charles de Durazzo, as near- 
est heir of Queen Joan, claimed her kingdom as his in- 
heritance, and his title was affirmed by Pope Urban on 
similar grounds to those which moved his rival Clement 
to prefer that of the Duke of Anjou. 

This prince had no means of withstanding such an 
army as that" led by the Duke of Anjou. Upon his first 
arrival, therefore, in full strength, he resolved to avoid 
fighting, and watch the course of events. He saw with 
considerable equanimity his country laid waste, and the 
city of Naples possessed by his rival. Charles of Du- 
razzo, howeve^, being satisfied in his own mind that the 



204 NEGOTIATION FOR A PEACE. 

vveiilth of tlie Duke of Anjou must, in a short time, be 
«;xl)ausl(;d, and his army disbanded for want of supplies, 
;;ontiiiued to protract the struggle. 

Accordingly, the necessity of paying and supporting an 
army, wiiich consisted of fifty thousand men at least, soon 
exhausted all the treasures which tlie Duke of Anjou had 
been able to collect. His rival exercised effectually the 
arts of Italian policy, and, by prolix negotiation, amused 
the Frenchman with personal challenges which he never 
designed to fulfil ; so that, at length, his army being al- 
most totally dissolved, and his treasures entirely exhaust- 
ed, Louis of Anjou died of depressed spirits and disap- 
pointed hopes, at the village of Bari, the 10th of October, 
1383. Charles of Durazzo, tliat he might seem to carry 
on his dissimulation even after the death of his rival, wore 
mourning for thirty d-tiys for the death of his competitor 
and mortal enemy — after which he took possession of l)is 
crown. 

It is said, that the ultimate cause of Anjou's ruin was a 
faithless follower, entitled Peter Craon, a Breton noble, 
afterwards frequently, but unhappily, distinguished in 
French history. He was a man of talent and social hab- 
its, for which he was highly valued at the profligate court 
of France. This Craon had followed the Duke of An- 
jou to Italy, and in his necessities, that prince sent him to 
bring some supplies of money, which he had left in France 
under the charge of his princess. The false emissary 
obtained the money ; but, instead of bringing it back, as 
the count had enjoined him, he spent it at Venice in 
profligate, riotous, and expensive pleasures. Having, 
notwithstanding, ventured back to Paris after the Duke of 
Anjou's decease, Craon fell at first under the displeasure 
of the king, and was severely fined for breach of trust ; 
but afterwards, by the arts proper to such parasites, he 
recovered the fiivour of the court, and again had confi- 
dence reposed in him, whicli jnit in his power once more 
the means of abusing and betraying it. 

About this time, the Duke of Bretagne, who had borne 
arms in the camp of the King of France during the ex- 



FREE COMPANIES 205 

pedition of the Bishop of Norwich, ventii.-ed to make his 
appearance in tue character of negotiator of a peace be- 
tween France and England — a character somewhat singu- 
larly assumed by one who, like John de Montfort, had 
oeen unfaithful to both kingdoms. Neither, however, 
were prepared, by the course of events, to submit to 
moderate terms ; and while the English refused to hold 
in vassalage of France the few places which they still 
retained in that kingdom, the French were equally un- 
willing that a foreign nation should enjoy even the slightest 
independent possession on their soil. No solid terms of 
peace, therefore, could be adjusted between the contend- 
ing powers. 

In the meantime, France, more especially its south- 
western provinces, continued to suffer from the Free 
Companies, or bands of armed men, of whom I have often 
told you before ; they owned no king or country, but as- 
sembled in towns and castles, where they made their livins^ 
by force, and at the expense of the neighbourhood. 
JMany of them, we liave seen, rose from being captains of 
such robbers — for such was their true description — into 
knights and generals of great consequence. 1 think, how- 
ever, you will better understand the character of this sort 
of persons, and conceive the scourge they must have 
been to a peaceful country, by a short account of the his- 
tory and death of two of their number. 

The province of Auvergne was particularly haunted by 
this banditti, because it abounds with passes, rocks, hills 
and strongholds, of which the Free Companions knew 
admirably how to take advantage in war. Several of the 
most renowned leaders had settled themselves there, for 
the same reason that a mountainous region is peopled by 
eagles, hawks, and other birds of prey, to whom it affords 
t)pportunities of rapine, and ineans of concealment. Two 
of these freebooters were distinguished above the others 
by their courage, intelligence, and activity ; their names, 
^at least the epithets by which they were distinguished in 
the wars,) were Amergot Marcell, and Geoffrey Tete noii^ 



206 ADVENTURES OF 

that is, Black-head. They both professed to espouse the 
English cause ; but it may be supposed that they only 
chose it because it afforded the most unlimited privilege 
of plunder. Froissart's account of the death of these two 
celebrated Companions is one of the most picturesque 
passages of his lively work, and will make you better ac- 
quainted with the lawless men who existed in that dis- 
tracted time, than a long dissertation of mine. 

Geoffl'ey Tete-noir obtained, by bribing a domestic, the 
means of obtaining possession, for himself and company, 
of the strong castle of Ventadour, belonging to an aged 
earl of that name, a quiet, peaceful man, whom the rob- 
bers dismissed without injury : such, indeed, had been the 
bargain of his treacherous squire, who surrendered the 
place. Geoffi'ey Tete-noir here prosecuted his profession 
with groat success. " He was a hardy man," says the 
historian, " who knew neither fear nor pity, and would 
put to death a knight or squire as soon as a peasant, for 
he cared for no one ; and he was so much dreaded by 
his men, that none dared displease him." This chieftain 
assembled a band of four hundred men, to whom he paid 
higfi wages monthly, with the utmost regularity. He 
protected the country around Ventadour, so that no one 
dared make incursions upon the territory. In his castle 
he held a kind of open market, where goods and furniture, 
cloth of Brussels, peltry and mercery, with iron and steel 
ware, leather, and other commodities, were to be found as 
plentiful as in the city of Paris. The castle was fully 
victualled for a siege, had it been to last seven years. 
Nay, occasionally, to show his independence, Tete-no r 
chose to make war on the English as well as the French ; 
and this jovial course of life he led for many years, more 
dreaded than any lawful authority in the country where 
he lived. 

Bui when the French interest began to recover itself in 
these districts, the nobles and knights united themselves 
together for the purpose of besieging the forts and castles 
of which these robbers had possession, and delivering the 



(JKOFFHEY TETE-NOm. 201 

country, by fair means or by force, from these lawless 
companions. 

Accordingly, Sir William Ligr.ac, Sir John Bon-lance, 
and many otiiers, knights of Auvergne and of the district 
of the Limosin, formed the siege of Ventadour, for the 
safety of which Tete-noir was no way distressed, having 
plenty of ammunition and provisions. But one day, as 
he was heading his men in a sally, he received a crossbow 
shot in the face. The medical persons thought that the 
wound was unattended with danger, had the patient ob- 
served the regimen prescribed ; but he was a free-living 
person, unwont to self-denial of any kind. The conse- 
quence of his careless course was, that the wound proved 
mortal. When Geoffrey Tete-noir felt himself very ill, 
he summoned the principal officers of his Free Company 
to his dying bed. He reminded them that he had long 
been their true captain, and, being now about to die, was 
desirous to see them unite to choose a chieftain in his 
stead, who might be able to defend this strong and well- 
fnrnished castle, until the French should raise the siege. 
" 1 have served," he added, " chiefly under the shadow 
of the King of England, holding the service to be one in 
which there is much to be got, and you will do well to 
choose one who shall follow the same policy." The 
Companions heard their commander's wOrds in silence, 
and when they answered, it was to offer to Tete-noir the 
choice of his successor. Having named a kinsman of his 
own to this office, the patient proceeded to make his will ; 
and it was one which, while it shows the wealth acquired 
by such people, is a curious evidence of their superstition, 
and their wild and irregular ideas of property, even when 
it was their own. " In yonder chest," said the dying 
brigand, " are thirty thousand marks. I will give them 
according to my conscience. Firsts to the chapel of Saint 
George, in this castle, fifteen hundred marks, to be spent 
in repairing the same ; next, to my mistress, who has 
truly and faithfully attended me, two thousand five hun- 
dred francs ; to Allan Roux, whom I have named your 
captain, four thousand francs ; five hundred to the varlet* 



^08 ADVENTURES OF 

of my clmmber ; fifteen hundred to the officers of rnj 
household ; the rest 1 give and bequeath thus :— ^Ye be 
about thirty Companions, all of one band ; ye ought to be 
brethren, without debate, anger, or strife among you. 
Having paid these legacies, I will that you divide the 
residue of the money, which you shall find in yonder 
chest, truly and equally among you thirty. But if you 
be not content witli my bequest, and that the devil do set 
debate amongst you, there stands a stout axe, break up 
the coffer, scramble for the money, and get it who can 1" 
The residuary legatees replied, that as they had always re- 
garded their captain, while living, with love and awe, so 
ihey would follow his behests when dead. 

Tliey continued to respect Geoffrey's testament after 
bis death. But his successor Allan Roux, being surprised 
in a piece of intended treachery, was put to the sword, 
and the castle of Ventadour taken. 

The history of Amergot Marcell, whom we have men- 
tioned as a biother in the trade' of war, and an occasiona! 
partner of Tete-noir, gives us a similar picture of tlieir 
life. This worthy had, in like manner, acquired the strong 
castle of Aloys, in Auvergne ; from it he made many suc- 
cessful inroads upon the country, which produced him a 
revenue of twenty thousand florins. But about tlie time 
of Tete-noir's death, the Earl of Armagnac, and several 
French lords, were commissioned to get these robbers out 
of the country by bribery, if that should be necessary., 
since force was a doubtful and dangerous remedy. Mar- 
cell was after a time persuaded that he had better accept 
the offer made him, renounce hrs unlawful and violent 
proceedings, and, by means of the treasure he had ac- 
quired, live in future a peaceful life. In these sentiments, 
he delivered up to the Earl of Armagnac the castle oi 
Aloys, situated in the very heart of Auvergne. 

But when he had resigned this stronghold, ho began 
to repent of having done so, and of having adopted re- 
formed courses. He felt that there was a diminution of 
the respect and awe which he formerly inspired whenever 
ois name was pronounced. The brigand is said to have 



AMERGOT MARCELL. 201* 

lamented his change of condition to the old companions 
nf his rapine ; and his recollections, as dehvered by thd 
historian, give a lively picture of his successful robberies. 

"To'pillage and rob," he said, " al! tilings considered, 
was a good life ;" and so he repented him of liis good 
resolutions, and thus addressed his old companions : — 
" Sirs, there is no sport or glory in this world among men 
of war, but to use such life as we have done in time past. 
What a joy was it to us when we rode forth at adventure, 
and sometimes found by the way a rich prior or merchant, 
or a route of mules of l\lont])elier, of Narbonne, of Tou- 
louse, or of Carcassonne, laden with Brussels cloth, or 
with furs coming from the fairs, or of spicery ware from 
Bruges, from Damascus, from Alexandria ! Whatever we 
met, all was ours, or else ransomed at our pleasure. Then, 
for our living, the peasants of Limosin daily brought to 
our castle, wheat-flour, ready-baked bread, forage for our 
horses, good wines, beeves and fat sheep, pullets and wild 
fowl. W^e were furnished as though we had been kings ; 
when we rode forth, the whole country trembled for fear ; 
all was ours, going and coming. How we took Carlushe, 
and James the Bourge of Compeigne ; and how I and 
Perot of Bernoys took Chalucet ! How did we scale with 
little aid the strong castle of lMarquel,and how I received 
in ransom thereof five thousand francs, told down on a fair 
table, and showed my gentleness by forgiving another 
thousand, for respect to the dauphin's children ! By my 
fdith, this was a fair and a good life ! and I repute myself 
sore deceived when 1 rendered up the fortress of Aloys ; 
since, well victualled as it was I could have kept it against 
all the world." 

Marcell's regret for the license of his early life natu- 
rally led to his resuming his former profession. It would 
be useless to trace his further exploits, though they are 
siriijular enough. His mode of life was rendered more 
aiilicult by the close alliance of the French kmghts, 
which, as we have already noticed, had for its ol>"ect the 
suppression of the Companies. Nor did the English af- 



210 Lancaster's invasion of castile. 

ford liini any effectual support, there being a truce be- 
tween the kint,rdoins at the time. At lengtli he intrusted 
himself to the conhdence of one of iiis kinsmen called 
Turnemine, who delivered him uj) to the French. When 
he was brought to Paris, JVJarcel! offered threescore thou- 
sand francs for his ransom. The cold reply was, that the 
king was rich enough. The brigand was dragged on a cart 
to the Halles, and, being first exposed on the pillory, was 
afterwards hanged and quartered, his quarters being placed 
over the gates of the city. These two leaders of banditti, 
their sentiments, and their fate, may serve to give you 
some idea of the life they led, and the manner in which 
France was finally relieved of them. 

To return to our history. The Duke of Lancaster, in 
the meantime, had, by his extensive influence, obtained 
at length the great but ill-placed object of his ambition, 
and had sailed with twenty thousand English troops, to 
make good his claim to the kingdom of Castile, lately pos- 
sessed by his father-in-law, Pedro the Cruel. It may be 
enough to say of his adventures in Spain and Portugal, 
that his troops maintained the character of the Enidish 
for bravery ; and acquired, as has been their usual fate, 
little or no advantage to their country from their brilliant 
exploits. The unhealthy climate, and intemperate use 
of the wines and fruits of the country, spread contagious 
diseases among them. But when we remember that port 
wine is now a general, andsupposed a healthy beverage, 
for Englishmen of the higher and middling ranks, we can- 
not suppress a smile when we read Froissart's assui'ances, 
that the hot and fiery wines of Oporto were fatally nox- 
ious to the English of his day, who were accustomed only 
to drink the light and generous wines of Gascony, or the 
mild ale of their own country. 

It occurred to the French king and his courtiers, that 
when the realm of England might be supposed exhausted 
by the mutinies of the peasants, and the two expedition? 
under the Bishop of Norwich and John of Gaunt, the 
proper season had arrived for transferring the war into the 



DUKE OF BRETAGNE 211 

territory of England. On this, as on later occasions, the 
preijarations for invasion wei-e made to a ctunbrous, ratliei 
than useful extent, and with great and luinecessajy sjtien- 
dour. Upwards of seven hundred ships were prepared 
to transport the large army whicli was collected for this 
enterprise ; the frame of a wooden town was put on board, 
which was designed to be taken to pieces, and carried 
fi'om place to place for the king's lodging, should he at- 
tend the expedition. The severe equinoctial storms of 
1386 destroyed this great fleet of transj)orts, wliich hati 
rendezvoused in tlie harbour of Sluyse. The king show. 
ed his favour to his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, by be- 
stowing upon him tlie harbour of Shiyse itself, and tlio 
various w^recks with which the tempest had filled ii in- 
cluding the fragments of the great wooden town already 
mentioiied. 

About the same period, the affairs of Bretagne began 
again to assume peculiar interest, John de Montfort, 
Duke of Bretagne, whom we have so often mentioned, as 
a man of bravery and talent, had a difficult part to phiy 
between France and England, and might, therefore, have 
been taught prudence by his situation. Yet, on tlie pres- 
ent occasion, lie ventured upon a line of conduct which 
would have been destructive to him, had circumstances 
permitted the French king to have driven the matter to 
extremity. 

You cannot have forgotten the long wars betwixt John 
de .Montfort and his parents, on the one side, and Charles 
de Blois, on the other. Among the greatest opponents 
of De Montfort, in his claim on tlie dukedom of Bretagne, . 
was Oliver de Clisson, a Breton lord, now Constable of 
France. The constable's zeai was the more provoking, 
that in the beginning of these disorders, he had been a 
partisan of the house of De IMontfort ; but long sinct; that 
time he had espoused the cause of Chailes de Blois,. and 
fought for him in the battle of Aurai, in which Charles 
was slain. Oliver de Clisson, after that battle, had ran- 
somed, at his own cost, two sons of Charles de Blois, th(! 
eldest of whom had married Clisson's dauiihter. Thii 



212 THE DUKE OF BRETAGNE ARRESTS 

young lord, with consent, as might be supposed, of hts 
fathei-iii-law, still continued to display I lie aims of Bre- 
tagne on his banneis and in his scutcheon, and in so far, 
at least, to assert his claim to the duchy, in maiutaining 
which his father was slain at Aurai. The duke was so 
displeased with this implied challenge of his right, that he 
resolved to be avenged in any manner, however discredit- 
able to himself, which might place the constable in his 
power. For this purpose, he issued an invitatiou to all 
the nobility and lords of Bretagne, and especially to the 
Constable of France, Oliver de Clisson, to meet liim at a 
solemn entertainment, with which he proposed to regale 
them. Ifaving feasted them for some time, the Duke, 
as if to procure their opinion of the structure, carried 
them to see a castle by the sea-shore, which he was just 
building, and which he called the castle of Ermyne. 
The constable, entering the tower at the duke's request, 
was instantly laid hold of, secured, and loaded with irons. 
His brother-in-law, the Lord Delaval, who saw the gate 
of the lower shut suddenly, and observed by the duke's 
change of complexion, that something remarkable had 
happened, threw himself upon his knees, and demanded 
mercy for the gentle constable. "Are you willing to 
share his fate .?" answered the duke, obviously in a high 
passion. " 1 am," answered Lord Delaval, in more anx- 
iety for his friend, than apprehension for himself. "Then," 
said the duke, drawing his dagger, " you must be content 
to lose one of your eyes, for Clisson has but one." (He 
lost the other, it must be observed, at the battle of Aurai.) 
After a moment, however, the duke abstained from the 
violence which he threatened, and caused Delaval to be 
apprehended, saying, that he should have neither worse 
nor better treatment than his friend. He was led, ac- 
cordingly, into a prison-chamber, and loaded, as was the 
constable himself, with three pairs of irons. The Lord 
Delaval continued to make intercession for the constable ; 
and though the duke repeatedly threatened to put both 
his prisoners to death, he had the good fortune to divert 
him from his purpose. Finally, the duke accepted of a 



THE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 213 

ransom, amounting to the large sum of one hundred 
thousand fiancs, hcsides three castles, and tiie town o'' 
Guyon. 

It was the opinion of the IJretons in general, that the 
true purpose of this violence on the duke's part, was la 
reconcile himself with the English, whom he had lately- 
displeased by his desertion of the Duke of Buckingham, 
yet without whose support he must have felt it difficult 
to mamtain the character of independence which he af- 
fected as Duke of Bretagne. 

The consequence of the constable's arrest in Bretagne, 
depriving the king of France of that great officer, upon 
whose wisdom he chiefly rested for the successful execu- 
tion of his pioject against England, nnist necessarily have 
interrupted the progress of the invasion ; but, as you have 
already heard, the tempestuous weather put an end to 
that expedition, by destroying the transports. The didxe. 
however, contrived to reconcile himself with the king 
of France, at the expense of returning the sum he had 
extorted as the ransom for Clisson, and giving up the 
castles which he had rect;ived from him. 
20 4th See. 



|J14 CHARLES VI. ASSUMES THE GOVERNMENT. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Charles VI. assumes the Government into his ovmhandi 
— his choice of Counsellors. — Jhtempt of Peter de 
Craon to assassinate Oliver de Clisson, Constable of 
France — the assassin takes rrfvge in Bretagne, whose 
Duke, De JMontfort, had been privy to his design 
— King Charles, in marching towards Bretagne, to 
avenge himself upon the intended Alurdercr, is struck 
with Insaniti/, ivhereupdn the Expedition is abandoned 
— Accident at a J\ius(jue, in which the King, during 
one. of his hucid Interva!^, performed a jjart — The 
Duke of Burgundy appointed Begent, in opposition 
to the claims of the Duke of Orleans — Burgundy 
drives Oliver de Clisson from Court, rvho retires to 
Bretagne, and engages in a war with De Montfort 
— Peace concluded betiveen them — De Alontfort's 
Death, leaving Clisson Guardian of his Children — ■ 
Clisson^s honourable conduct in that capacity — His 
Death — Administration of the Duke of Burgundy — 
Assistance afforded by Prance to the Scots — Pxpedi- 
tion to protect Hungary from the Purks — the French 
and Hungarians defeated by the Sultan Bajazet near 
JS'icopolis — Massacre of the Prisoners — State of 
France at the Close of the Fourteenth Century. 

The next year was well advanced, when the French 
king, Charles VI., took upon himself the government of 
his kingdom. He assembled, for this purpose, a council 
at Rheinis, whither he called his uncles, the Du.kes of 
Berri, Burgundy, and Bourbon, and expressing his grateful 
thanks for the services ihey iiad rendered him, declareu 
himself in future determined to govern his kingdom by 
the assistance of a council of state, the members of which 
were to be selected by himself. 

The nation were not sorry to see that none of the youiig 



GOVERNMENT OF CHARLES VI. 915 

king's uncles, except the Duke of Bourbon, were includ- 
ed in the list of privy counsellors. Tlie Dukes of J^erri 
.and Burgundy, however, both of whom were ambitious 
men, though Burgundy alone was an able one, were 
higlily offended at being thus excluded from power. The 
king himself, as Air as the character of so young a man 
could be guessed at, possessed the most promising dis[)o- 
sitions. His education however, had been neglected ; 
and, as was probably the policy of his uncle, who wished 
to keep him detached from business, he had contracted an 
extravagant passion for hunting and other youthful exer- 
cises, together with a fove of public show and festivities, 
inconsistent with the economy which the state of the na- 
tion highly demanded. These failings, added to untoward 
circumstances, and to a melancholy alteration in the slate 
of his health, rendered Charles Vl. one of the nK)st un- 
fortunate princes that ever sat upon the throne of France, 
even though he had been preceded by the van(|uished 
Philip and the captive .John. In the commencement of 
his reign, however, these defects were far from being visi- 
ble. He was attentive to business, careful to render 
justice to those who j)resenled petitions to him, liberal in 
the remission of taxes, active in his administration, and 
so amiable in his general deportment, as to acquire iho 
surname of Charles the Weil-beloved. 

In this the happiest period of his reign, the death of 
the Duchess of Oi'leaiis enabled hitn to bestow the title, 
and the province itself, upon his only brother, whom he 
had determined to raise to a rank befitting the love which 
he bore to him. 

The principal officer whom Charles VI. ernj)1oyed, and 
whom he valued as much for his civil as for his warlike 
qualities, was the iireton loid, Oliver de Clisson, often 
mentioned as Constable of France, and whom, perhaps, 
the king valued the more, from, being conscious iliat his 
greatness and wealth arose entirely from distinguished 
merit, without being the result of high birth. For the 
same reason, the king's uncles, seeing a person whom 
they regarded as an upstart, rise into confidence vvitb 



216 ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE 

their ro^-al nephew, from which, they wtre excluded; 
entertained a deep hatred for Clisson, which disphiyed 
if.seir on several occasions ; and these princes are, there- 
fore, supposed to have aided the Duke of Bretagne in 
escaping-, so easily as iie did, from tlie consexjuences of 
his treacherous attack upon the constahle's person, at the 
castle of Ermyne, and to have been at the bottom of a 
foul attempt to assassinate iiim, which look place shortly 
afterwards. 

The agent in this vile deed, which was the too frequent 
vice of thai barbarous age, was the same Peter Craon, 
formerly remarkable as having been the confidant of Louis 
of Anj«n, to whoni he proved faithless, and incurred a 
fine and censure, notwithstanding which, he luul contrived 
to enter once more into some credit at the couit of France. 
'Craon, a bold, meddling, and intriguing person, had ac- 
quired so much intiu)acy with the Duke of Touraine, 
afterwards Orleans, the kinir's brother, that he had an 
opportunity of abusing it, which it was not in his natuie 
to on)it. The king, who understood that Craon had been 
disturijing the peace of his court, by fetching and carry- 
ing tales betwixt the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, inti- 
mated his displeasLire by a sentence of banishment from 
coint. Craon retired into Bretagne, of which duchy he 
was a native, and where he had property, full of indigna- 
tion against the constable ; and reckoning with security 
that he would have the countenance of the Duke of Bre- 
tagne, in any enterprise which he might form against that 
ofTicer. It was not without the knowledge of this prince, 
that E'*eter Craon made a desperate attempt to assassinate 
the constable ; and we must lament the inconsistency of 
mankind, when we find that John de Montfort, who had 
acquired the title of the Valiant, and who, in the field of 
Aurai, wept in the moment of victory over the hereditary 
foe by whose death he became Duke of Bretagne, could, 
notwithstandinij:, become accessary to so base and cow- 
ardly a conspiracy. 

Though iDanished from Paris, Peter Craon had still 
like other persons attendant on the court, a house of Ijis 



THE CONSTABLE OF FR.-NCE. 217 

own. which bo caused to he privately supplied with armour 
for forty men. In the meaiuiine lie introduced into the 
house, at different times, a like nundier of persons, the 
most des|)erate rufhans whom he couhl find in a country 
where long wai' had made such characters too abundant. 
At last he joined them suddenly himself, and connnanded 
ihe porter to let no person either in or out till his pleasure 
was known. On the same eveninif there was a great en- 
tertainment at court, upon which. Craon kept a close 
wat ji, in order to be apprized of the motions of his vic- 
tim. The knights jousted in presence of the king and 
queen ; supper was served ; dancing ensued ; at length 
all departed to their lodgings. As Constable of Prance, 
C'isson departed last of all. He asked if he should at- 
tend upon the Duke of Orleans longer, and was dismissed 
by that prince, who had no farther occasion for his ser- 
vice. The constable was then joined by Ins retinue, with 
his horses ; and, with eight persons anrl two torches, pur- 
sued his way through what was then called the street of 
Saint CaUierine's. Here Craon waited with his band of 
assassins, to execute his purpose. They attacked tlie 
unsuspicious passenger, and struck out the torches. The 
constable naturally took this sudden assault to be a youth- 
ful frolic on the part of the Duke of Orleans, from whom 
he had just parted, and said, " Ah ! sir, this is a bad 
jest ; but 1 pardon your youth and love of frolic." At this 
Peter Craon drew his sword, and cried, " Down with the 
constable ! 1 am Peter of Craon, whom thou hast often 
injured ; I will now have amends !" Excited by their 
master's cries, Peter Craon's men struck at the constable 
and his party, yet it xvas but faintly ; ••' for," says the 
chronicler, " what is done by treason is seldom done har- 
dily." The good knight whose life was the object of this 
♦.reachery defended himself manfully with a sword scarce 
two feet in length, the only weapon which he had, and 
warded off many blows ; at length he was beat down by 
a severe stroke on the head, and fell against a baker'i 
door, which was forced open by his weight, and the baker, 



218 CRAON S RECEPTION IN BRETAGNL. 

wlio was 11): early to attend to liis oven, drew the wounded 
man within his liouse, so that the rufFians couhl not have 
tlnis!:ed their work without aligliting, wliicii they had not 
time lo do. The assaihints were the readier to make 
their escape, tiiat they conceived, from the constahle's 
fall, that . their enterprise was fully executed. The city 
was speedily roused ; and the king himself iiastened lo 
tlie spot, with a cloak around him, and slippers on his 
feet. He instantly ordered a hot pursuit after the assas- 
sins, which was undertaken by the provost of Paris. 
Notwithstanding this, Peter of Craon escaped by the gate 
of the city which had been dismantled by Oliver Clisson 
himself, when the king, returning from the camj)aign of 
Rosebecque, punished the city of Paris. The assassin 
afterwards retired into Bretagne ; and the king prepared 
to march into that country, as well to revenge himself of 
Peter Craon, who had been guilty of such an outrage, as 
to chastise tlie Duke of Bretagne, his protector. 

Clisson, though much hurt, recovered from his wounds, 
although he thought his end so near, as to make his tes- 
tament. This was esteemed an extreanely impolitic step, 
as he thereby confirmed reports wh.icli were current re- 
specting the immense wealth which, he had amassed, and 
greatly increased the odium in which he was held on that 
account. His property was said to amount to seventeen 
millions of francs, without putting any value on his lands 
and lordships, forming a strong contrast to the honest 
poverty of Bertrand du Guesclin, Clisson's predecessor in 
his high office. 

In the meantime the intended murderer met with but a 
sorry reception from John de INlontfort ; not because he 
had attempted the i\eei], but because it was not fully ex- 
ecuted. " Ah ! Sir Peter of Craon," said the duke, 
" you are unhappy, that you could not slay your enemy 
when, he lay under your sword !" — " Sir," answered 
Craon, " 1 tliink all the devils had conjured him out of 
mv hands! 1 am sure more than sixty blows were struck 
at him with swords and javelins ; he was felled from his 
liorse ; and had he not tumbled in at a half-open door, he 



EXPEDITION AGAINST BKETAGNE. 2i9 

had been but a dead man." The Duke of Bretagne jin- 
?vveied, " that as it was so, he would conceal Sir Peter 
of C'raon, since so far he liad promised to aid hiin." 

It was hiifhly natural that the king should endeavour to 
Efvenge so gross and cruel an outrage ; but the oftenders 
had friends about the king's family and person. Accord- 
ingly, though on one hand Charles in-ged, as an article of 
treason on the part of the Duke of l^relagne, that he had 
sheltered an assassin under the circumstances of Peter de 
Craon, and per^iisted in his purpose of bringing both the 
murderer and his abettors to condi<rn pimishment ; on the 
other, the Dukes of Berri and Burgundy would have had 
the matter considered as a mere brawl between two Bre- 
ton lords, with which the King of France might dispense 
with intermeddling. The king, notwithstanding this op- 
position, vowed to be revenged for the foul injury which 
lie had sustained in the jiersoii of liis constable. 

The king accordingly marched to the city of Mans. 
with the intention of entering Bretagne, having with him 
his uncles of Berri and Burgundy, and his brother of 
Orleans, at the head ol" a g:d!ant army, with w'hich he 
resolved to penetrate intoBretagne,and obtain full com[)en- 
sation for the crime meditated and imperfectly coannitted, 
by Peter of Craon. 

The march of the king was interrupted by a very sin- 
gular circumstance, at which we must be contented to 
wonder, without pretending to account for it. For some 
days ere Charles set out from Mans on this expedition, he 
had betrayed evident symptons of occasional derange- 
ment, — the apparent effects of a slow fever, excited by 
vexation at the attempt upon Clisson, and the extreme 
heat of the weather. No persuasion, however, could 
induce him to relin(]uish the expedition against Bretagne, 
and he set off with his army in the munner already men- 
tioned. Charles himself rode like a man-at-arms of the 
day, fully sheathed in mail, except his head, and having 
two jiages bearing before him his helmet and his lance. 
The armour, being covered with black velvet, chafed and 
heated him ex lessively His brother, his uncles, and one 



ii2i) APPARITION IN THE FOREST OF MANS. 

or two principal persons of the army, attended immedi- 
ately on his person. As he thus rode forward tmder a 
bui-ninir sun, he himself bein;^ in a mooiiy fit, a tali figure 
dressed in rags, and hideous in aj)pearan{.'e, rushed out of 
a ihiekel, and, seizing the king's bridle, exclaimed, in » 
singular tone of voice, " King, whither goest thou ? Thou 
art betrayed !" What this man was, or to what purpose 
his wild warning was given, it is difficult to conjeclure. 
The king's servants, who |)aid no attention to his words, 
suffered him to escape into the thicket, after having 
dealt several blows at hiiii. He was nowhei'c afterwaids 
seen, which induced the superstitious to believe him a 
supernatural apparition. In the meantime, the army 
emerged from the ff)rest, and entered a broad plain, where 
the sun, at the height of noon, was still more 0})pie3sive 
than before. Here the pages with the spear and helmet 
rode close behind the king, and his uncles, the Dukes of 
Berri and Kurgundy, with other high nobles, ke[)t at a 
little distance, to be Uee of the columns of dust which 
arose from the tramp of so many horses. In these cir- 
cumstances, the page that bore the spear falling asleep, 
or through n(!gligence, allowing the lance to drop upon 
the casque of him who bore the king's lielmet, that slight 
accident was enough to j)ioduce a great catastrophe. The 
king was weakened in mind by his fever, exhausted by 
the heat of the sun, and by the weight of his armour, 
which was a habiliment most unfit ibr the season. Above 
all, the a}ipearance and words of what seemed to be a 
phantom, had sunk deeper into his invagination than those 
around him were aware. It was but lately since he had 
been called up from his bed, alarmed by a conflict at the 
sates of his palace, in which his highest military officer 
narrowly escajied with life ; and in times when such things 
currently happened, slighter warnings than that of the 
unknown stranger iniL'ht have alarmed nerves less shat- 
tered than those of Charles VI. 

In this situation, the clash of the spear, and the glitter- 
ing of the armour around, were sufficient to awaken him 
out of bis dreaming melancholy into a fit of raving mad- 



CHARLES VI. STRUCK VVI rH'lNSANlTY. 221 

ness. He drew his sword, and, rushing like a madDian 
oil the page, who l)ad caused the noise, struck hlni a mor- 
tal blow, and continued hewing at all around him wit'n so 
little distinction, that it became obvious he was wholly 
deranged. There was no other remedy but to seize iijk)ii 
him by main force, disarm and bind hiu), and in this un- 
happy condition to convey him back to Alans, bound with 
ropes, and transported in a cart, exhausted with his fran- 
tic effort, speechless, motionless, and almost lifeless. 

This was a melancholy conclusion of the expedition to 
Bretagne, all thoughts of prosecuting which were aban- 
doned. The king's fury, as already noticed, gave way tu 
a fit of the most powerless dejection ; he neither moved, 
looked, nor spoke ; and a low pulse, and a faint degree of 
warmth, alone indicated the remains of life. He I'ecov- 
ered, indeed, after some weeks' illness j buf both mind 
and body had received such a shock, as was never al'ter- 
wards repaired. 

It appears doubtful what we are to think of the tale of 
the forest of Mans. The scene of the appaiition was acted 
near to a lazaretto for the abode of persons afflicted with 
leprosy ; and the phantom may perhaps, therefore, have 
been some crazy patient of that melancholy asylum. It 
has, however, been supposed that the whole was a device 
of the Duke of Burgundy, who, in the event of the king's 
incapacity, was most likely to succeed to the administra- 
tion of the kingdom, having formerly exercised it. It is 
thus far certain, that Burgundy was greatly dissatisfied 
with the object of the king's journey; for he hated Clis- 
son, and considered liim as the person by whose advice, 
he himself, and his brother the Duke of Berri, had been 
excluded from influence ever since Charles personally 
assumed the management of public affairs. The same 
Duke of Burgundy, at a period somewhat later, accused 
the king's sister-in-law, the Duchess of Orleans, of beimr, 
by enchantment, the authoress of the king's malady. She 
was an Italian, daughter of Galcazzo, Duke of Milan, 
beajtiful, accomplished, and possessed of high talent; 
969 



2iJ2 EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT. 

and it would have been indeed ungrateful in her to have 
been guilty of any harm to the king, who showed lier, 
in liis gicaiest fits of insanity, a particular degree of re- 
gard, spoke to her with tenderness, by the name of my 
" fair sister," and always knew her, though he could dis- 
tinguish no one else. But as the House of Orleans did 
not succeed to any considerable share of power by the 
king's malady, at least in the first instance, it could Jiardly 
be supposed to have been guilty of practising upon 
Charles's health. 

At first it seemed as if the king was not unlikely to re- 
cover permanently from his malady, when his fits of in- 
sanity were again brought on, after a temporary convales- 
cence, by an accident as extraordinary as that by whicli 
his disease had originally been manifested. 

Charles was so far recovered as to take an interest in 
the festivities of liis court, though not in the affairs of 
state.- There was, one night, displayed at court a masque 
of particular sj)iendour, in which the king himself acted 
a part. Six personages of the highest rank, the king 
nimself being one of them, appeared, for the amusement 
cf the party, disguised in the character of Silvans or Sat- 
yr^. Tiieir dross consisted of canvass coats, pitched over, 
to which wool or flax was attached in loose 'flakes, to 
represent the character which they had assumed. They 
were linked together with chains, and formed a pageant 
which excited general curiosity. The Duke of Orleans 
used the privilege of his rank, to approach the Silvans 
with a torch, in order to discover who the masquers were. 
Unliappiiy, their dress being highly inflammable, the 
whole group was on fire in an instant. Linked together, 
in the manner described, there was little chance of escape ; 
yet the general cry of the pei'ishing group was to save 
the king, even while they themselves were in the agonies 
of a death so painful. The Duchess of Berri, who was 
speaking with the king at the moment wlien the accident 
took place, had the presence of mind and resoJution, to 
wrap that imhappy monarch in her mantle, and save him 
from a death, which, in his condition, however painfui 



DISPUTES CONCERNING A REGENT. 22'3 

and horrible, might have been a merciful dispensation. 
Another of the unhappy masquers plunged himself into 
a cistern of water, vvhicli chanced to be near. The re- 
maining four were so dreadfully burnt, that they all died 
in great agony. 

The natural consequence of so horrible an accident 
was the return of the king's malady in its fullest extent ; 
and, as he never afterwards recovered the i)erfe(.:t use of 
his reason, he must be considered as a lunatic for liie, whose 
insanity was chequered with a few intervals of reason. 
In consequence of this lamentable condition of the mon- 
arch, the king and kingdom were alike overwhelmed with 
a tide of calamities. 

It became absolutely necessary to provide a regent tc 
carry on the business of the state; and a quarrel arose in 
the royal family who should be preferreii to that import- 
ant office. The Duke of Orleans and the Duke of Bur- 
gundy both preferred claims to this eminent trust. The 
Duke of Orleans, the king's brothisr and heir, was legally 
entitled to hold this office ; the king, during his rare 
intervals of reason, gave his ojiinion to this effect ; nor 
was tliis prince unfitted for the situation by personal 
qualifications. He was a handsome man, and possessed 
all those exterior accomplishments which gain the ad- 
miration of the infei'ior orders. But the Duke of Or- 
leans was a licentious voluptuary, preferring pleasure to 
principle, and not extremely select in choosing the road 
by which he sought the former. Ho was also only twenty 
years old at the time when the king's incapacity was first 
admitted, and was not, therefore, considered as sufficiently 
ripe in years to take upon him the high responsibility ol 
the regency. 

The Dukes of Berri and Burgundy, uncles of the king, 
might entertain the next pretensions to this high office. 
Of these, the Duke of Berri was oldest ; and in so fai 
preferable; but he was a man of weak" parts, and dis- 
posed by habit, to defer to the talents of his brother, the 
Duke of Burgundy, whom he did not affect to rival. 
He was also unpopular from his mal-administration, upoi? 



224 DUKE OF BURGUNDY CHOSEN RKGKNT 

a foiiner occasion, of the county of Languedoc, whicli 
had given jusl cause for great clamour against hin-i. This 
unambitious prince, therefore, was contented to look for 
sucl) subordinate j)ower as he might obtain by n^ea'ns of 
his youneer brother's preferment, and added his interest 
to that of Burgundy to have the latter raised to the re- 
gency, ol which he had for some rime exercised the 
duties, during the king's minority, though without attract- 
ing much popular ai)plause. 

The Duke of IJurgundy was, therefore, raised to the 
regency ; but not without a struggle between him and his 
nephew, Orleans, in the course of which the fatal quarrel 
took its rise between the rival branches of Oileans and 
Burgundy, which so long distracted the kingdom of 
France with civil violence, and occasioned the commis- 
sion of so many crimes, and the s[)illing of so much 
blood - 

It was the first step of this regent, when possessed of 
the administration of Prance, to visit upon the constable, 
Oliver de Clisson, the resentment which he had long 
nourished against him. When the constable appeared in 
his presence to give an account of his office, the Regent 
Burgundy look the op[)ortunity to insult him, upbraid- 
ing liim witli having to|) long, aitd too' busily, interfered 
with the aOairs of the kingdom, also taunting him with 
liis having amassed much wealth, and concluding by 
desiring him to get him gone, as he valued the sight of 
his remaining eye. Clisson, apprehending worse treat- 
ment, from so brutal a reception, retired from the city 
of Paris, and took refuge upon his own territories in 
Bretagne. 

Clisson's old enemy, the Duke of Bretagne, was not 
disposed to allow the constable a fjuiet refuge in his 
dominions, while, in tlie meantime, the regent was de- 
termmed tv'^ exclude him from France. It was witli thi? 
view that the Duke of Burgundy caused Clisson to be 
summoned before the Parliament of I-*aris, where the 
principal part of the charge against him seems to have 
heen, that he possessed too much wealth to have beea 



GENEROSITY OF CLISSON. 225 

honestly acquired. As the constable did not appear be- 
fore an assembly in which his enemies were predominant, 
he was, in all form, exiled from the realm of France, 
and condemned to pay a fine of one hundred thousand 
marks of silver ; at the same time, he was adjudged to 
be dispossessed of his office of constable, although he 
still retained the official baton, which was the symbol of 
the authority. In the meantime, the office of constable 
was conferred upon Sir Philip of Artols, Count d'Eu, 
Jie Duke of IJurgundy finding it difficult to get any one 
who would venture to accept it in tiie room of Clisson, 
who, after tlie death of j-^ertrand du Guesditi, had been 
gsnerally esteemed the only man in France capable of, 
sxsrcising tiie office. 

Meantime, Clisson made s strong party in his native 
country of Bretagne, where he had great power amongst 
Uie defeated ])artj' of Charles de Blois ; the rather that 
he had a daughter married to the Count de Pent hie vre, 
eldest son of Sir Charles, and heir of his claims upon the 
dukedom. Thus Clisson was odious to the reigning Duke 
of Bretagne, not only as his personal enemy, but as likely 
to revive, and establish in the person of his own son-in- 
law, the rival claims of Sir Charles de Blois. 

A cruel war was entsi'ed into by Clisson and the duke, 
which was carried on, as usual, by skirmishes, taking of 
castles and making of prisoners. The Duke of i^retagne, 
notwithstanding his being sovereign of the country, found 
few disposed to take his part in this matter ; so that 
Clisson twice plundered him of all his plate ; and, in fine, 
notwithstanding his enmity to Sir Oliver, the Duke was 
fain to make peace with him as an e(ji'.al, and upon terms 
which Clisson considered as advaniogeous. An act of 
generous confidence on the part o'" Clisson closed the 
feud, and serves to show us, that althoi'gh that wild age 
was incajjable of being regularly bound by the terms oT 
equity and good faith, they yet were fully sensible of the 
obligation arising from noble actions and frank i-«iiance. 
The Duke of Bretagne, having desired an interview wit'^ 
Cdcson, and knowing well that since the treacherous, 'V 



226 DEATH OF THE DUKE OF BRETAGNE. 

rest at Erra3''ne Castle, his invitation was not likel}'^ to 
be trusted without a pledge, sent one of his so-ns to be 
letained as a security that good faith should be obsei-ved 
towards Clisson durinsi the meeting. That same nisht, 
however, Clisson, who seems to have been aware that 
the duke, with violent passions, united much irregular 
but generous feeling, sent back the hostage, and in the 
fullest confidence of the duke's honour, kept the rendez- 
vous without any security. John de Montfort, though 
he might be tempted to injustice, was highly sensible 
of confidence, and the more so, as he might be conscious 
it was undeserved. He admitted Clisson, not to a cold 
truce, but to a warm friendship, from which neither of 
them afterwards swei-ved. 

The death of the Duke of Bretagne, not long after 
wards, gave him an opportunity to show in turn his con- 
fidence in Clisson, whom he appointed as tutor to his 
orphan children, notwithstanding that the duty of such 
a guardian was inconsistent with the interest of the co-n- 
stable's grandchildren of the Penthievre family. 

Notwithstanding the jarring interests between the 
family of the deceased prince and of his own daughter, 
Clisson undertook the charge with all the zeal which the 
duke had reckoned upon. Neither was he without 
temptations to betray his trust. He was reclining upon 
his bed, on one occasion, when his daughter, the Countes-s 
de Penthievre, entered the apartment, and intimated to 
her father, with little circumlocution, a plan of putting 
to death the young De Montforts intrusted to his charge, 
and placing his grandchildren in the right to the duchy. 
For all other answer to her proposal, the old knight 
raised himself in his bed, and launched at her head the 
tiuncheon wliich he held in his hand. Flying from a 
re] etition of this well-mei ited, though soniewhat severe 
paternal admonition, the countess fell down stairs and 
dislocated her leg, by which accident, a lameness for 
life became the reward of her ill-timed and ill-chosen 
advice lo her father. 

J may also mention in this place the fate of Peter 



DEATH OF SIR OLIVER DE CLISSON. 227 

Craon, the deviser and perpetrator of so many crimes. 
He remained an exile, sentence having been pronounced 
against him in absence, on account of the assault upon 
Ohver de Clisson. (A. D. 1396.) During tl)e treaty 
of marriage betwixt France and England, Richard if. 
besought pardon for this 'man, which was accordingly 
granted. In appearance, at least, Craon testified a be- 
coming penitence for the faults of a licentious youth, as 
well as a cruel and blood-thirsty manhood, and died, it is 
said, repentant of his crimes. 

Clisson shortly after died in peace, honoured, beloved, 
and lamented, after having gone through so many dan- 
gers in the public service, and so many from private envy 
and hatred. It was rare that such a deadly feud as 
existed between the Duke of Bretasne, Clisson, and 
Peter Craon, came to be finally terminated by peace and 
reconciliation. 

In one respect the government of the Duke of Bur- 
gundy was a wise, for it was a fi-ugal one. In his lucid 
intervals the king was entertained with hunting-matches 
and other pastimes, by which, perhaps, the duke hoped 
to divert his thoughts from the government of his king- 
dom. Sports and entertainments which the king could 
enjoy were carefully provided for him ; and it is said, 
that playing-cards were invented for his amusement. 
But while in his fits of lunacy, the expenses of the un- 
happy monarch were reduced to the least possible com- 
pass, which decency would admit, and often restricted 
within it. 

These instances of economy, and others doubtless of 
a more praiseworthy character, enabled the Duke of 
Burgundy to pacify the complaints of the common peo- 
ple, by reducing the public taxes ; nor was he altogether 
negligent of the afiairs of the kingdom. He was rej^u- 
larly guided by the advice of parliament, who were 
convened every year ; and, using the counsel of his 
brother, the Duke of Berri, as a species of colleague, 
the laws which they adopted, with the consent of thai 



228 FRKNCH EXPEDITION SENT TO THE 

body, were so prudent and wholesome, that thev wore 
letained for many centuries. 

During tlie Duke of Burgundy's administration, also, 
of which uiuch that is evil may he said, the ))ublic peace 
was not disturbed by the destructive war with F.ngland. 
by which France had been so long ravaged. This was, 
indeed owing rather to the weakness of Eng!ar)d, than 
to the f)rudence of the French rege:.t. Tlie reign of 
Ricliard II. of England had been marked by puhhc dis- 
cord, popular tumult, and almost every event which can 
render a country incapable of foreign war ; and during 
this general confusion, the quarrel with France, if not 
made up, was lulled to sleep from time to time by con- 
tinued truces, until the year 1395, when Richard, then a 
widower, sent an embassy to demand in tnarriage the 
princess Isabel, eldest daughter of the reigning monarch 
Charles, but a girl of only six or seven years old. -The 
French administration agreed to the match .^ but though 
the princess went to reside in England, the marriage was 
broken off by Richard's detlironement and death. The 
most important consequences of the treaty of marriage, 
otherwise so ill assorted, was the accoaunodation of all 
disputes between France and England, and, amongst 
other articles, the restoration of Brest to the dukedom of 
Bretagne. The internal transactions of France, during 
this distracted reign, were merely convulsions, occasioned 
by the license of the soldiers, and at times the reviving 
disputes between the French and English ji-assals. But 
there existed, besides, connexions with foreign powers, 
of which it is necessary to say something. 

The unfortunate fate of the Duke of Anjou's expedi- 
tion against Sicily and Naples has been already suffi- 
ciently dwelt upon ; hut the intercourse of the French 
with the Scottish nation is worthy of some notice. "We 
have already observed that love to the French, hatred to 
(he English, and the distribution of considerable sums of 
money, had induced a nation, generally reckoned both 
, cor and warlike, to attempt an invasion of England, in 
order to create a diveision in favour of Calais, which 



ASSISTANCE OF THE SCOTS. 229 

Edward III. was then beslei^infr. In this enterprise the 
Scots had the misfortune to lose a fine army, and leave 
their king, iJavid II., i)risoner in England. In the battle 
of Poictiers, a body of Sc(Jttish gentry, the fiuv^er of 
their kingdom, commanded by the celebrated Earl 
Douglas, shared the disasters of that bloody day. The 
French had always expressed themselves grateful for the 
assistance which the Scots had meant to give them, sorry 
for the loss which their allies had sustained, and willing to 
return the obligation when circumstances should put it in 
their power. 

A period occurred in 1385, (A. D.,) when such an 
opportunity of assisting the Scots, and carrying war 
into the northern limits of England, appeared favourable. 
The spearmen of Scotland formed a body of infantry 
whose im[)enetrable phalanx defied even the shock of the 
men-at-arms. Their irregular cavalry were unequalled 
for the width to which they could spread devastation. 
But their archers, whom they drew from the Highlands, 
were far inferior to those of the English ; and the gene- 
ral poverty of the country rendered their regular cavalry 
comparatively few and ill-appointed. 

Tlie French council conceived, that by assisting the 
Scots with forces of the latter description, they might 
place their allies upon a footing with the English. A 
thousand men-at-arms were sent to Scotland under the 
Admiral of France, John de Vienne, a veteran of ap- 
proved talents. He was also furnished with a large sum 
of money to distribute aniongst their Scottish friends. 
At first, allies who came so well provided were received 
with general gratulation. But the strangers speedily 
found that they had come to a wild and savage country, 
destitute of the useful arts, and dependent upon Flanders 
even for liorse-shoes and the most ordinary harness. 
On the other hand, the Scots were disgusted and dis- 
pleased with the natural petulance of these military 
strangers, who. interfered in their families w'ith an alert 
gallantry, which the French conceived to be a mark only 



230 THE FRENCH LEAVE SCOTLAND. 

of breeding, and a privilege of their rank. Tne r'rencb- 
nien were yet more disappointed upon finding the cau- 
ilou.j inannef in which tlie Scots pro))osed to conduct 
the war, which though admirably calculated to distress 
the English, afforded little prospect either of gain ot 
glory to adventurers like themselves. Instead of rushing 
on with precipitate rashness to a general action, as the 
French wished and desired, the Scottish warriors, taught 
by experience, suffered the Elnglish army to enter their 
eastern frontier, and to do such damage as they could, 
wliich was very little, where flocks, herds, and catile, 
forage, and all that could support an army, had been 
previously driven away, or destroyed. In the mean- 
time, when the English were engaged in traversing what 
may be called a howling desert, the Scots, who even ex- 
celled their neighbours in tlie arts of devastation, poured 
a desultory but numerous army upon the western frontier 
of England, laying all waste, and doing more mischief 
than their own eastern provinces could have received 
fiom the southern foe, had they been plundered from sea 
to sea. 

In this species of war the French men-at-arms could 
acquire neither fame nor profit ; they lost their horses, 
lost their armour, and at length lost their patience, exe- 
crating the poor, rude, and pitiful country of Scotland, 
on account of which they had suffered so much trouble. 
What was worse, they found great trouble in obtaining 
jiermission to return to France. Wine they had little ; 
their bread was of barley, or of oats ; their horses were 
dead from hunger, or foundered with poor living ; and 
when ihey would have brought them to sale, to relieve 
their pressing occasions for money, there were no pur- 
"jhasers in Scotland disposed to enter upon such a bargain. 
The Scots also insisted on a large sum, due, they said, 
for the expense of their allies' n)aiiiienance, and for the 
riamages wdiich they had in different ways done to Scot- 
land. De Vicnne himself was obliged to remain a 
hostage in Edinburgh, until these sums were paid by the 
government of France to the Scottish Factors at Bruges 



BXPEDITION AGAINST THE TURKS. 231 

Thus the Scots took farewell of their allies with execra- 
tions upon their affected delicacy and epicLirism. tlieir 
self-importance and insolence, wliile the French invei;!,die(l 
with no less justice against tlie baibarity of the Scots, 
and the miserable poverty of their country. 

France, however, was in this reign to send forth an 
expedition still more im[)ortant, and doomed to terminate 
in a far more disastrous manner, than that to Scotland. 
Crusades had long ceased to be the fashionable employ- 
ment of Ciiiistian monarchs ; but it was not possible that 
they could see with indifference the progress which the 
victorious Turks were daily making, both in the Grecian 
empire, and in the kingdom of Hungary. Sigismund 
was so apjirehensive of the danger incurred from these 
infidels, under the command of the celebrated Bajazet, 
who had already for eight years besieged Constantinople, 
and was now threatening the frontiers of Hungary, tliat 
he endeavoured, by the most humble applications at the 
court of France, to obtain the „ assistance of a body of 
volunteers, who would merit Paradise, by combating 
against the infidels, " making use," says the chronicle, 
" of many words of great love, such as kings anil such 
persons write to eacl) other in circumstances of neces- 
sity." Similar letters were written by Sigismund to 
other Christian European courts. 

.lohn Earl of Nevers, son of the Duke of Burgundy, 
and regent of France, although not yet a knight, was 
desirous to go on this expedition, and Lord Guy of 
Tremouille expressed a desire to accompany him. The 
regent yielded a reluctant consent. The news being 
generally spread that the young Earl of Nevers intended 
to put himself at the head of a volunteer force, to assist 
in repelling Bajazet from the kingdom of Hungary, a 
general impression was inade upon all the true sons of 
chivalry, who flattered themselves with the hope of ob- 
taining such a complete victory as would enable them tc 
conquci- Turkey, recover Syria, and all the Holy Land, 
and outdo whatever had been attempted by the greal 
princes in their crusades* 



232 BATTLE OF NICOPOLIS. 

The anny of what might be called crusaders, which 
assen bled on this occasion, amounted to more than one 
himdred thousand men, and made sucli a splendid show 
vvlien they reached Hungary, titat Sigisnnnid proudly 
exclaimed — " \Vliy should we fear the Turks ? If the 
heavens themselves should fall, we are numerous enough 
to uphold them with our lances." (A. D. 1395.) 

Tlie impatience of his auxiliaries to advance, induced 
ihe King of Hungary to levy what forces he could, and 
move forward with his allies, so that they might the 
sooner conie to deeds of arms. They crossed tiie Dan- 
ube, and formed the siege of a town called Nicopolis, 
which was garrisoned by the Turks. Bajazet, in the 
meantime, had raised a very large army, with v, hich he 
approached the camp of the besiegers, showing only a 
small part of his force in the centre, and concealing a 
very large force upon each wing. A party reconnoitring 
brought news to the Christian camp that the Turks were 
advancing, but no exact account of their numbers or 
disposition. The Christians instantly took arms, but 
were considerably heated with the wine they had been 
drinkmii:. The French claimed the honour of making 
the onset ; and they were diawn up in fiont of the centre 
of that part of Bajazet's force which was open and un- 
covered. 

The King of Hungary's mareschal then advised the 
strangers to halt, and keep their ground without advanc- 
ing, until a reconnoitring party, which Sigismund had 
sent out, should bring fnore exact intelligence than they 
had yet received concerning the enemy's force. The 
Hungarian had scarcely turned his hoise, ere Philip of 
Artois, Constable of France, out of ])urc despite and in- 
solence, commanded his banner to advance, in defiance 
of the orders, or rather advice, received. The Lor(' of 
Coucy, a knigiit of great fame, considered this a pre- 
sumptuous proceeding ; and, looking to the Admiral of 
France. .John de Vienne. the same wlio commanded the 
French auxiliaries in Scotland, demanded what was to be 
done. '' Sir," answered the veteran, ''where reason 



BATTLE OF NICOPOLIS. 233 

cannot be heard, pride must reiirn ; since the consta- 
ble will neetls advance, we must follow him, and sup. 
port him." They nisliod forward, iheiefore; on whal 
appeared to be the main body of the Turkish army, 
which retireil before tliem, according to their sultan's pre- 
vious connnands. In the meantime, as the French afl- 
vanced upon the centre, two strong wings on either flsnk 
of the Turkish army, which had been hitherto concealed, 
threw tiiemselves in the rear of the men-at-arms, and cut 
the Fren(di chivalry oti' from the main body of the Hun- 
garians, This mano-uvre was executed with the char- 
acterisnc rapidity which j)rocured for Bajazet the epithet 
of llderim.or [lightning The army of Sigismund, being 
fifty or sixty thousand men, might still, by a desj)erate 
chartre, have rescued their allies, and perhaps gained the 
battle. Hut the Hungarians, losing courage on seeing 
many of the French horses running back without riders, 
concluded that their vanguard was defeated, and fell, 
from the very ai>prehension, into great disorder, and re- 
tired, or rather lied, in confusion. The Turks, whose 
armies consisted chieHy of cavalry, made great havoc in 
the pursuit. 'J'he. King of Hungary himself, w'ith the 
Grand Master of the Hospitallers, escaped with difficulty ; 
and the slaughter and carnage, both among the Hungari- 
ans and tlieir auxiliaries, was very great ; while most of 
the French knights who escaped death on the field of 
battle, had the sad alternative of becoming captive to the 
infidels. 

Bajazet, greatly elated by his victory, took possession 
of the King of Hungary's tent, and, with the usual ca- 
price oi" a barbai'ian, evinced at first a desire to be civil 
to, and familiar with, such nobles as were brought prison- 
srs to his presence. He took credit to l^imself naturally 
for the great victory he had won, and boasted, it is said, 
a pretended descent horn Alexander of Macedon, in whose 
steps lie affected to treaii. But when the sultan had re- 
freshed himself, and came to \ie\v the field of battle, the 
loss of his best and bravest 'lurks was so much greater 



234 MASSACRE OF PRISONERS. 

than he had conceived, that his tiger propensities began 
to show themselves. He caused to be pointed out to him 
some few of the knights who were of the Jiighest rank, 
and likely to pay the best ransom. These being set 
apart, with a view of preservinu; their lives, the rest, stript 
to their shirt?., were brought before him, previous to being 
put to the sword. 

■ Tliere were present a great number of captives, of the 
highest blood and character in France, and other states 
of Em-ope ; in all, more than three hundred gentlemen. 
The Turks stood around them with their drawn scimitars. 
Bajazet appeared, and received the sujtplicaiion of all, 
for all were at his mercy. He looked upon his })risoners 
for a few moments, as a wild beast beholds his prey wiion 
he has made sure of it; and then turning away, made a 
sign to his soldiers, in obedience to which the unarmed 
prisoners were hewn to pieces without compunction. 

The sultan, however, was not wanting in a species of 
clumsy courtesy which intermingled strangely with his 
cruelty. He caused to be brought before Jiim the Earl 
of Nevers, to whom, on account of his high rank, he 
showed some deference, and asked him, which of three 
knights he would wish to despatch to Paris with the in- 
formation of his captivity. The earl fixed his choice 
upon one whom Froissart calls Jacques of Helley, who 
had been formerly prisoner with the Saracens, and whose 
knowledge of their language and manners had been of 
great service to his countrymen. The other two knights 
were presently put to death ; and Sir .Iacf(ucs of Helley 
was dismissed under the faithful promise that he should 
again return to the Court of Bajazet when he had dis- 
charged his embassy. 

The arrival of this messenger at Paris, vviili tidings so 
[lismal, threw almost the whole kingdom into mourning ; 
and it was the general report that France had -sustained 
no defeat so disastrous since ihe fal.)ulous combat of Ron- 
cesvalles, m wbich battle, romance stated the twelve peers 
of (Jharlemagne to have fallen. Amid the number of 
lears which were shed, and the grief which was displayed 



CLOSE OF THE FOaRTEENTH CENTURY. 235 

on every side, the regent Duke of Burgundy was the 
on]y person who experienced some comfort in the general 
distress. It is said, he contrived to extort from the 
French jjeople, for the ransom of his son. the Earl of 
Nevers, a nnicii larger sum than was necessary for the 
purpose, or than was actually paid to Bajazet. 

Thus closed the fourteenth century upon the kingdom 
of France, neither leaving it healed of its disorders, nor 
in a way to be speedily cured of them ; fortunate, how- 
ever, in this, (hat tlie dissensions betwixt York and Lan- 
caster, now commenced by the rebellion of Bolingbroke, 
was likely so far to occupy the attention of the Eni^lish 
nation, as must necessarily prevent the recommencement 
of a war which had been longtha scourge of both nations 



93(5 STATE OF FRANCE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Faction of Orleans and Burgundy — Threatened Rup- 
ture with England — The Duke of Orleans appointed 
Regent, and again deprived of that office — Death of 
Philip of Burgundy — John the Fearless succeeds him, 
and the Dissensions with Orleans continue — Recon- 
ciliation of the tivo Dukes — their hatred again bursts 
out — Murder of Orleans — Burgundy, ivho insfigaled 
this crime, obtains a full pardon, but, having gone to 
Quell an Insurrection at Liege, the Doom, oj Treason 
is pronounced against him — Burgundy advances upon 
Paris — the Adherents of Burgundy termed Cabo- 
chins, those (f Orleans, Armagnacs — ihe Jirmagnacs 
obtain assistance from. J'juuhuid — King Charles, dur- 
ing an Jnterval of his Ahdady, manifests the utmost 
indignation at this Ijcague with England, and marches 
in person against the Armagnacs — the French JYobles 
assemble in Paris, and compel the Jirmagnacs and 
Cabochins to be reconciled, to each other — On an In- 
surrection of the Parisians, the Dauphin calls to his 
assistance, and re-organizes, the Orleans Party — 
Burgundy retires from Paris, but is recalled by the 
Dauphin, on some disagreement between him and his 
mother, (^ueen Isabella — On the approach of Bur- 
gundy, the Dauphin again invites the Armagnacs to 
join him — Charles himself, partially recovered, marches 
against Burgundy, and compels him to sign a Pacifi- 
lation — State of England — Conclusion. 

OirR last chaptei- left France in -a sitiinnnn equally ex- 
traordinary and disastrous. The unfortunate monarch 
Charles VI. was so incurably affected with his disorder, 
that a light like that of a sunbeam in a tempest seemed 
only from time to time to gleam on his deranged imagi- 
nation, and enabled him to express occasionally some. 



EnPIRlCS ATTKMPT THE KING's CLKE. 237 

oj)inion on politics, wliich tliose of his relaiives who had 
for the time the nearest access to his person, never failed 
to mould so as to serve their own purposes. Thus, with- 
out having, properly speaking, any will or inclination of 
his own, the unfortunate prince could assume the appear- 
ance of expressing one. and was sometimes brought forth 
*.o do so even in public, which, as his deficiencies were 
well known, could only have had the effect of degrading 
his government. 

At other times, the person of Charles was strictly se- 
rluded. His tent and his banner were displayed in 
niarches and sieges ; but the curtains of the pavilion were 
never raised, nor was the person of the sad inhabitant, 
ever visible to his soldiers. 

During the king's incapacity, the two tactions of Or- 
leans and Burgundy, although iheir representatives were 
connected in the near relation of uncle and nephew, con- 
tended with the n)ost bitter strife for the power of ad- 
ministering the governn)ent. The Queen Isabeliu, wife 
of Charles VI., an ambitious and violent woman, was 
supposed to have espoused the interest of the Orleans 
party, with a warmth which, as the duke was a hbertiie 
young man, was prejudicial to her reputation. The Duke 
of Orleans, therefore, and his wife Valentina, who pos- 
sessed a strong persona! interest with the king, wese for 
the present leagued with Queen Isabella for the purpose 
of depriving the reirent, Duke of Burgundy, of that 
power which he held in the administration. We shall 
afterwards see this intrigue assume a difTerent form. 

Each of these factions took the most violent and vui- 
scrupulous mode of doing whatever might injure l!)eir 
livals in the public opinion. Both of them called in the 
aid of pliysicians, in the hope of devising sou/e cure or 
alleviation of the king's malady ; and as the enipirics who 
were permitted, if not encouraged, to make new experi- 
ments upon the royal patient, usually left Charles worse 
than they found him, their want of success was always 
laid to the charge of the party which had consulted 
fhftr-n. The Duke of Orleans condeumed to the flame? 
970 



2.'J5 THREATENED RUPTURE WITH ENGLAND. 

as a inac;ician, a learned man, namerl Joan de Bar, wlic 
liad been employed by tbe Duke of Burgundy to -eflecf 
the king's cure. Tbe regent, in retaliation, commanded 
the prosecution of two Cordelier churchmen, wiio bad 
been brought by tbe Orleans faction to attend the king as 
physician?, and whose experiments bad consisted in deep 
and (iangerous incisions made on tbe bead of their royal 
patient. The Duke of Burgundy caused them both to 
be hanged. 

In the meantime, the external peace of the kingdom 
of France was threatened, w!)ile the government of the 
counti'y was a prey to discordant factions. Tbe contract 
of marriage between Richard II. and tlie young princess 
of France, Isabella, though absurdly ill-suited as regard- 
ed the age of the parties, had yet tlie great advantage of 
procuring a prolonged and solid peace betwixt two na- 
tions, wliose chief miseries for two centuries had been 
occasioned by inveterate and senseless hostilities, from 
which neither had gained advantage, while both had suf- 
fered immense loss in blood and treasure. But the 
dethronement and death of Richard II. was an unex- 
pected stroke, which dissipated all these happy pros- 
pects ; and tlie unfortunate Charles, who happened to be 
in 0!ie of bis lucid intervals at the time, was so much 
affected by tbe melanclioly tidings, that he relapsed 
into one of his most outrageous Fits of insanity. (A. D. 
1399.) 

Tlie French princess, the intended wife of Richard, so 
soon as she should have arrived at a proper age, was still 
residing at the court of England ; and although her pro- 
jiosed husband was dethroned, and it is believed mur- 
dered, Henry IV. would fain have retained her there as 
a future bride for his son, afterwards Henry V. This 
match, which would in all probability have secured a 
stable peace between the countries, must have been 
highly to the advantage of both. But the French nation 
weie incensed at the death of Richard, whom they look- 
ed uj)on as their ally ; and the lords of Gascony who 
had hitherto followed tbe English interests, regarded the 



UNPOPULARITY OF THE DUKF. OF ORLEANS 239 

same unfortunate monarch as the son of their great prince 
Edward, and their countryman, Richard havintr been 
born at Oourdeaux. The French, aware of this feeilno^, 
were universally disposed for war for the recovery of 
Bourdeaux and the other English possessions in France, 
in preference to a peaceful alliance w^ith that power under 
its new dynasty. But the malady of their king, and the 
contests between the factions of Orleans and Burgundy, 
rendered the French as unfit for prosecuting the war, 
as they were averse to continuing at peace ; and thus a 
re-enforcement from England, under command of the 
Earl of Worcester, easily secured Bourdeaux to the Eng- 
lish crown. 

In the year 1400, during a casual absence of the Duke 
of Burgundy from court, the opposite party had the art 
to extract from the king, then in one of his twilight in- 
tervals, a commission appointing his brother, the Duke 
of Orleans, his lieutenant and regent of the kingdom, at 
such periods when he himself should, by the visitation of 
God, be prevented from administering the government. 
(A. D. 1400.) This commission was partly obtained by 
the influence of the queen, who at this time hated the 
Duke, or rather the Duchess of Burgundy ; and it was 
received the more willingly by the people, as by the law 
of France, the Duke of Orleans was the rightful claimant 
of the regency, and his youth could not now, as fornierlv, 
be objected tor 

But the new regent used his power very unskilfully 
In the quarrel between the two Popes, which still sub- 
sisted, thv. Duke of Orleans espoused the cause of Bene- 
dict, which was the most unpopular in France ; he like- 
wise imposed taxes both on ecclesiastics and on the laity, 
which, joined to a casual scarcity of provisions, rendered 
his government intolerably oppressive. A crisis speedily 
followed, in which the Duke of Orleans was deprived of 
the regency by an assembly of the great men of the 
kingdom. Both dukes then took arms, and a civil war 
seemed inevitable, when, by the interference of the 
iXikeg of Berri, Bourbon, and other princes of the blood 



240 DISTURBANCE OF ORLEANS AND BUUGUNBT. 

it was declared that, to end the family dissensioiiSj both 
Orleans and Burgundy should be excluded from tlie 
government of the kingdom, which was vested in the 
council of state, over which the queen was appointed to 
preside. This suspended, in appearance, .the quarrel 
between the rival princes, and, for a time, neither attempt, 
ed to assume the regency in person, though both exer- 
cisfcd an indirect influence upon the different members of 
the council. 

Philip, Duke of Burgundy, was afterwards again 
raised by his nephew the king, to a more active share in 
the government, when he suddenly died upon a journey, 
so very much embarrassed by debts, that his duchess 
renounced any share in his movable succession ; and, 
in testimony of her doing so, laid in the coffin of the 
deceased prince the keys of his household, and the girdle 
at which she wore tliem — a strange ceremony to take 
place at the funeral of a prince, who had at his command 
all the revenues of France, and was not supposed over 
scrupulous in employing thenr to his own purposes. 

John, Duke of Burgundy, who succeeded Philip, was 
called the Fearless. He possessed his father's power, 
although he had two brothers, each of whom inherited 
considerable territories, being Anthony, Duke of Brabant, 
and Philip, Count of Nevers, which last we saw unhap- 
pily distinguished at the battle of Nicopolis. But, above 
ail, .John, tlie eldest brother, had his father's ambition, 
and took up the family quarrel with the house of Orleans 
exactly where Duke Philip had left it. 

I'iie discord between the uncle and nephew came thus 
to subsist in full force between the two cousins. They 
disturbed the whole kingdom by their intrigues ; and the 
Duke of Burgundy had, like his father, the address to 
secure a very strong party in the city of Paris, to which 
his house and faction had represented then)selve3 as the 
preservers of the privileges of the city and university, and 
enemies to the imposition of excessive taxes. In the 
dissensions which followed, the dauphin, a young man of 
feeble talents and no fixed principles, would have fled 



ASSASSINATION OF ORLEANS 241 

with his mother to the town of Melun, but was pursu-ed by 
the Burgundian party, and brought back by force. Hlood 
shed seemed so near, that each prince chose his device 
Orleans, to indicate his possessing the right of regency^ 
displayed a hand grasping a club full of knots, with the 
motto — / envy it — alluding to the feeling which he at- 
tributed to the opposite house. Burgundy, on the other 
hand, gave a carpenter's plane, with a Flemish motto — 
Je hovel — that is, / hold — the means of smoothing the 
knotted club. (1405.) 

Mutual friends and relations, chiefly of the blood royal, 
once more interfered, and brought the two contending 
princes to a solemn agreement. They dismissed their 
troops on each side, met together in the hotel of the 
Count de Saint Paul, embraced each other, and took the 
sacrament at the same time. They were now emi)loyed 
for a short time in the public cause, the one against the 
English in Guienne, the other against Calais ; but the 
campaign proved short and inefficient, and was closed by 
a truce of one year's duration. 

It would appear that the hatred of the two dukes be- 
came the more bitter, that the late reconciliation obliged 
them to observe certain forms of dissimulation, since in 
private the Duke of Burgundy, at least, meditated ending 
the feud by putting his rival to death. 

It was on the 23d of November that the Duke of Or- 
leans, being at the queen's apartments, where he usually 
spent the evening, was summoned to wait on the king im- 
mediately. While he obeyed this command, and traversed 
the streets mounted on a mule, accompanied only by two 
gentlemen and a few valets on foot, he suddenly fell into 
an ambush posted for the purpose. The leader of these 
ruffians was one D'Hacquetonville, personally injured, as 
lie conceived, by the Duke of Orleans. This man struck 
at the Duke with his battle-axe, and, missing his head, 
the blow fell on his right hand, which it struck off. '■ i 
am the Duke of Orleans," cried the party assailed. " It 
is he whom we seek," answered his assassins with wild 



242 PROCEEDINGS OF BURGUNDY. 

exultation, and, striking the prince from his saddle, they 
cut him limb from limb by their furious and united as- 
sault. They had taken every precaution to ensure the 
perpetration of the murder and their own subsequent es- 
cape. The streets were strewed with caltrops, for laming, 
the horses of such as should attempt a pursuit ; a house 
was set fire to by the assassins, who cried " Fire, fire !" 
to distract the attention of the people, while the Duke of 
)rleans's retinue were crying " IMurder !" 

In the morning, the duke's body was discovered, so 
much [lacked and dismembered, that the streets were 
sprinkled with his blood and brains, while some of the 
limbs could scarcely be found by his weeping attendants. 
Such, indeed, was th-e inveteracy of the factions, that the 
Burgundians only said to each other, vt'ith a sneer, " See, 
if the knotty mace has not been well smoothed by the 
plane !" 

The Duke of Burgundy at first affected innocence and 
surprise. On a threat, however, to arrest some of his 
followers, he showed such signs of guilt, that the princes 
of the blood; advised his retiring from Paris to his own 
dominions, which he did with much precipitation. But 
when in a place of safety, he recovered his spirits ; and, 
finding that his party were willing to support him, without 
much regard to his innocence or guilt, he assembled an 
army of his own subjects of Burgundy and Flanders, 
and advanced upon Paris, having with him, as an apolo- 
gist, or rather vindicator, a doctor in theology, named 
John Petit, who, in the face of the dauphin and princes 
of the blood, arraigned the late Duke of Orleans as a 
traitor, and shar/ielessly justified the Duke of Burgundy 
for the vile murder accomplished on the body of his neai 
relation. Tlie Duke of Burgundy, assured of his supe- 
riority, demanded and obtained from the dauphin, who 
began now to assume a lead in public affairs, as full a 
pardon for the death of the unfortunate Orleans as could 
be put into words. He caused the Admiral of France to 
be removed frpm office, his chief fault being that he had 



INSURRECTION IN FLANDEUS. 243 

offered with two hundred knights to pursue the murderer: 
of Orleans. 

Nor would his demands ha:ve stopped there, had he not 
suddenly learned that the people of Liege were in arms 
against his father-in law, their arch.bishop ; and no sooner 
had Ikirgundy left Paris with his forces to quell this in- 
surrection in Flanders, than the Orleans faction appeared 
m arms, in the capital, determined to take merited ven- 
geance for the foul murder. 

The number of the Duke of Burgundy's enemies was 
augmented by the appearance of Valentina, the widowed 
spouse of the deceased, in the deepest mourning, fcjllowed 
by all her household in the same attire of woe, seeming 
to invoke upon the murderer the vengeance dematidcd by 
the widow and the orphan. And althoug!) the Duchess 
of Orleans was prevented by fate froui prosecuting her 
purpose, yet her death, which followed soon after that of 
her husband, was ascribed to the consequences of his as- 
sassination, and occasioned additional execrations on the 
perpetrators of the deed. 

Owing to the sudden predominance of his enemies, ju- 
dicial proceedings against the Duke of Burgundy wei'e 
briskly undertaken before the parliament of Paris, and 
pushed "on to extremity. The pardon he had obtained 
from the dauphin was declared void, and the doom of 
treason denounced against him. 

Hardly had men sufficiently wondered at this change 
of fortune, when news arrived, that the Duke of Bur- 
gundy, having quelled the insurrection of the citizens 
of Liege after much slaughter, was now approachinir 
Paris at the head of his army, breathing defiance agamst 
all his enemies — a threat the more formidable, as the 
greater part of the populace at Paris were known lo be 
inHuenced by him ; so much so, that even his vile crime 
had made no impression in his disfavour on the vloleiit- 
temjiered citiz.ens, who were little accustomed to regard 
the life or death of an individual, even although a prince 
of the blood, or to consider in what manner hs came 



244 THE CABOCHINS AND ARMAGNACS. 

to his grave, provided he fell in the prosecution of a deat'ri 
feud. 

The city of Paris, and country of France, were novi 
split into two violent factions, who distingiiislied them- 
selves by badges, and by the designations of their parlies. 
This was the only circumstance which evinced decency 
and a sense of shame — that they did not distinguish them- 
selves as Burgundians or Orleanists. The former party 
wore red sashes, with the cross of Saint Andrew, and 
were called Cabochins, from Caboche, a butcher, a dis- 
tinguished partisan of the party of Burgundy. The fol- 
lowers of Orleans, on the other hand, wore white sashes, 
with Saint George's cross, and termed themselves Ar- 
magnacs, from the earl of that name, the father-in-law of 
the Duke of Orleans, accounted, from his spirit and ac- 
tivity, the buckler of his cause. He was made Constable 
of France by his son-in-law's interest, and w-as lo(jked 
upon as his principal partisan. The Parisians took u^ 
arms as Cabochins ; and a body of actual butchers were 
the most active in the cause of Burgundy. 

The Orleans party moved upon the capital, and threat- 
ened Paris with a siege. But the Duke of Burgundy 
threw himself into the city with a body of select troops, 
part of whom were English, v^'ith which nation-, in the 
desperation of his hatred to the faction of Armagnac, the 
duke had made a league. These English auxiliaries were 
commanded by the Earl of Arundel, and conducted them- 
selves with such good discipline, that they were of great 
service to the cause of Burgundy. 

The Orleans faction, who remarked this advantage of 
the opposite party, and suffered by it, felt little difficulty 
in entering into similar transactions on their own part, and 
opened a treaty with Henry IV. of England. Tlie ofi'ers 
of the Armagnacs were too high to be neglected by Henry 
IV., who was just obtaining a breathing time from the 
troubles and insurrections with which his reign had been 
successively disturbed — by the Welsh, the Percys, and 
others, who were dissatisfied with his title or his govern- 
ment. At this period of quiet, it was natural he should 



PASSIVE BEHAVIOUR OF CHARLES. 246 

look a.broad to France, now engaged in a bloody and re- 
morseless civil war, and engage to support the party that 
should grant him the best terms. Or perhaps, in his 
heart, the English king desired, by assisting the one 
French party after the other, to prevent the civil Avar 
from drawing to a conclusion, which afforded England a 
prospect of recovering her French dominions. 

It is certain, that, with whatever intention, Henry IV. 
listened favourably to the proposal of the Oileans or Ar- 
magnac faction, who offered to surrender all the prov- 
inces of Gascony to the English, with other advantages. 
Tempted by these offers, he engaged, 18th of May, 1412. 
to send to the assistance of the Armagnacs, a thousand 
inen-at-arms, and three thousand ifi'chers. To show him- 
self more serious in their support, the King of England's 
younger son, Thomas of Clarence, was to be appointed 
general of the auxiliary army. 

Amid these preparations, in which the horrors of for- 
eign invas-ion were added to those of civil war, Charles 
VI. awakened from a long fit of stupor, and became sen- 
sible, as he sometimes was for intervals, to the distresses 
of the country of which he wore the nominal crown. 

Isabella of Bavaria, the wife of the unfortunate king, 
had contriv^ed to take a great share in the government in 
the names of her lunatic husband and her youthful son, 
whose station of next heir to the crown would have given 
him great authority, had he known how to use it. It was 
much to the credit of the French, that their loyalty to 
the king remained unshaken even when in such deplora- 
ble circumstances. His mandates, when his mind was 
strong enough to express them, were listened to with re- 
spect by the chiefs of both parties : and, as the caprice 
of the queen tlirew her into -the one or the other side of 
the contending fictions, he was heard to denounce ven- 
geance for the death of Orleans, his only brother, and on 
the other hand, undertake the defence of the Duke of 
Burgundy, his murderer. 

Tlius passively did the poor king follow the views of 
21* 



246 Charles's lucid intervals. 

the faction under whose charge he chanced to be placed 
for the time, without expressing disgust at his own treat- 
ment, although we have one anecdote at least tending 
to show that even his means of living and support were 
strangely neglected by those who had his person under 
their control, even though these were at the time his wife 
and eldest son. 

So ill, we are assured, was the royal family provided 
for, that the governess of the royal household once com- 
plained to the unfortunate king that she had neither 
money nor means of procuring either provisions or other 
necessaries for the service of the royal children. " Alas !" 
said the king, " how can I help you, who am myself re- 
duced to the same straits ! " He gave her the golden cup 
out of which he had recently drank, as the means of 
meeting the immediate necessity. 

It appears that this unhappy prince, during the rare 
intervals of his melancholy disease, had the power of 
seeing, with some degree of precision, the condition in 
which the country stood at one given moment, and could 
then form a rational opinion, though he was totally inca- 
pable of deducing any arguments founded on what had 
happened before the present moment. His mind Avas 
like a mirror, which retlects with accuracy the objects 
presented to it for the time, though it retains no impres- 
sion of such as formerly passed before it. His judgment, 
therefore, incapable of 'judging of affairs with a compre- 
hensive reference to past events, or those who have been 
actors in them, was entirely decided by the light in which 
the present circumstances were represented by those in- 
terested in deceiving him. 

Charles was therefore not a little indignant, on awaking 
from his illness in 1412, at finding the Armagnac party 
far advanced in a treaty, the principal article of which 
was the introduction of an English army into France ; 
and while he felt natural resentment at a proceeding so 
unpatriotic, and so full of danger to his kingdom, he was 
not aware of the fact, or could not draw the conclusion, 
thdit the Duke of Burgundy and his party had been guiltj 



THE FACTIONS RECONCILED. 247 

of exnctly the same error when they accepted the assist- 
ance, under the Earl of Arundel, whiGh had farmed tha 
most (effective part of their garrison for the defence of 
Paris. 

Greatly displeased, therefore, -with the Dukes of Berri 
and Bourbon, with others included in the Armagnac party, 
Charles marched in person against them, and besieged 
the city of Bourges, which was one of their strongholds. 
They expressed the utmost deference for the king's per- 
son, but alleged that he had not undertakeu the expedition 
of l^is own free Avill, protesting at the. same time that, 
excepting that Charles came, or rather was brought, in 
company of that licensed murderer, John Duke of Bur- 
gundy, the gates of Bourges should fly open at the 
slightest summons in the king's name. 

AVhile making these fair pretences, the besieged organ- 
ized a desperate sally, Avith the view of making prisoners 
of King Charles and his eldest son Louis. In this they 
were disappointed, and found themselves so hard pressed 
in their turn, that they were obliged to submit to condi- 
tions dictated by the king, in which both the parties of 
Armagnacs and Cabochins were obliged to renounce all 
their leao-ues with the English. 

Tlie English, in the meantime, under the Duke of 
Clarence, arrived, as appointed by the Armagnacs ; and, 
as demonologists pretend of evil spirits, were much more 
easily brought into France than dismissed from thence. 
The Orleans party, by a large sum of ready money, and 
a much larger in promise, for which hostages were 
granted, persuaded the English prince to withdraw, but 
not Avithout doing much damage to the country. 

The French nobles then assembled together in Paris, 
without distinction of parties, the very names of the 
factions being declared unlawful ;■ so anxious did the 
leaders appear to be to bury the very memory of their 
dissensions, while secretly they were labouring to rouse 
and increase them. 

Peace being thus concluded betwixt the factions, there 
Beemed to be some chance of stopping the bleeding 



248 BURGUNDY GAINS THE ASCENDENCY. 

wounds of the distracted country ; but the utter d sre- 
gard to the ordinary bonds of faith between man and 
man, threw all loose within a short time. 

A war with England began now to appear a likely 
event, and a meeting of the States-General was convoked, 
to find the means of meeting the emergencies of the 
country ; but they were dissolved without having pro- 
posed any radical cure for the distresses and dangers 
under which the kingdom laboured. 

Louis, dauphin, and heir of the crown, was now be- 
ginning to take a decided part, independent of his mother 
the queen, and he naturally cast his eye on the Duke of 
Burgundy, as the party by whom so incurable a wound 
had been dealt to the domestic peace of France. In his 
secret inquiries into this prince"s conduct, he learned, or 
perhaps pretended to learn, that the duke had laid a plan 
for destroying the remaining branches of the house of 
Oi4eans. The informer was a certain Pierre des Essarda, 
a creature of the Duke of Burgundy, whom he had raised 
to the dignified and wealthy situation of minister of the 
finances, and who now, being threatened by the dauphin 
with an examination of his accounts, changed sides, in the 
hope of eluding inquiries which he dared not meet. He 
received orders from the dauphin to secure the Bastile, 
then in some degree considered as the citadel of Paris. 

Bugundy, better accustomed to the management of 
plots than his young kinsman, counteracted so effectually 
the scheme of the dauphin, that Des Essards no sooner 
had possessed himself of the Bastile, than all Paris was in 
uproar. The m'ob. commanded by Caboche, the butcher, 
took up arms. Des Essards, obliged to surrender the 
Bastile, was seized upon, and put to death. Caboche and 
his followers pJso killed some persons in high office about 
the dauphin's person, and compelled the king himself, 
with the Dakes of Berri and Bourbon, to go to the par- 
liament, wearing white hoods, the emblem of the party 
of Burgundy, — at least of the Parisian mutineers, — and 
there register such edicts as the multitude were pleased 
to demand. The same rioters burst into the dauphin'a 



CHARLES AGAIN RECOVERS. 249 

private apartments, having heard the sound of violins 
there, and behaved with the utmost insolence, putting 

those who were present in immediate dandier of their 

1- 
lives. 

Impatient of mob-tyranny, -which is of all others the 
most difficult to endure, the dauphin once more took 
measures for recallinu; and arranginij the broken and di?- 
persed party of the Duke of Orleans. At the call of the 
heir- apparent, in which he used the name of his fixther, 
the Orleans party entered Paris, ^vhile, by one of the 
changes common at the time, the Duke of Burgundy 
found he could not make his party good in the city, and 
retired, as was his wont, to his own territories of Flanders. 

Tije queen, the dauphin, and the other lords, who had 
thus obtained po-vver, notwitlistanditig their mutual inter- 
est, could not agree, how much soever it was their inter- 
est to do so. Isabella of Bavaria had the art to induce 
most of them to join against the authority assumed by her 
son, as too absolute and peremptory to be engrossed by 
one whom she described as a giddy youth, liable to be 
seduced by evil counsel. The queen even proceeded so 
far as to break into the dauphin's apartments, and seize 
upon four attendants of his person, whom she described 
as agents of the Duke of Burgundy. The young prince 
w^as so highly oftended at this personal insult, that he 
wrote to the Duke of Burgundy that he was prisoner in 
his own capital, and invited him to come with his forces 
to his deliverance. 

A slighter invitation would have brought the duke to 
Paris. He instantly advanced, at the head of a large 
force of his own vassals. 

Cliarles, however, had in the meantime a transitory in- 
terval of recovery, and assumed for a short time the reins 
of govfrnment. He sent forth an edict, reproaching the 
duke with the murder of the Duke of Orleans, and pub- 
lished the confutation of Doctor John Petit s abominable 
apology for that \ile assassination.- 

The dauphin Louis, also, whose temper seems to have 
been fickle and uncertain, again changed his party, and 



'i6i) BURGUNDY SUES FOR PEACE. 

invited the princes of the Orleans faction into the city 
with sj strong a body of horse, (amounting, it is said, 
to eight thousand men,) that they were able to disarm 
the whole citizens, save those of the better classes. He 
took also away from the Parisians the chains and barri- 
cades with Avhich they were accustomed to block up 
their streets, and once more put it out of their power to 
disturb the public tianquillity. The Duke of Bui-gundy 
in the meantime advanced towards the walls of the city ; 
but dismayed at once by the royal edicts launched 
against him, by the dauphin deserting his cause, and 
by the reduced state of the Parisians, who used to be 
his best friends, he retreated as formerly, after a vain 
attempt on the capital. 

But the king, surrounded with all the princes of the 
blood-royal, except the lineage of Burgundy, marched 
into x\rtois, the territories of the duke, with the pui'pose 
of completely subduing his tenitories. Ciiarles demand- 
ed of the towns of Flinders, whether they meant to stand 
by the duke against their liege lord ? and received the 
satisfactory answer, that the duke was indeed their imme- 
diate prince, but tliat it was not their purpose to assist him 
against the king, their lord paramount, or to shut their 
gates against their sovereign. The Duke of Burgundy, 
alarmed at finding liimself deserted by his own immediate 
subjects of Burgundy and Flanders, began to negotiate 
for a peace Vvith more sincerity than hitherto. It was 
concluded accordingly; but the Orleans party refused to 
sign it. Charles and his son insisted on the signature. 
" If you would have the peace lasting." said the dau- 
phin, '-you must sign it ; " which was done accordingly. 
This pacification, being preceded by the humiliation of the 
Duke of Burgundy, might be accounted tlie most steady 
which had yet been attempted between the Arniagnac^ 
and Cabochins, and appeared to possess a fair chari'**^ of 
being permanent. 

liut it was not the pleasure of Heaven to prolong the 
state of foreign peace, or truce at least, which France 
had enjoyed during her domestic divisionSj and which 



CONCLUSION. 251 

prevented England from taking advantage of them. 
During some years Henry IV. of England had reigned, 
an unpopular king, with an uncertain title, and could 
not, owing to disturbances at home, profit by the dis- 
union of the French. But at the time of this pacifica- 
tion between Charles and his subjects, the English king 
had just died, and was succeeded by his son, the cele- 
brated Henry V., a young hero, beloved by the nation, 
and who breathed nothing save invasion and conquest 
against his neighbours, the scars of whose disunion 
were still rankling, though apparently closed. 

And, as the issue of the strife which ensued was re- 
markable, I shall here close my Tales for the present, 
not unwilling to continue them, if they shall be thought 
as useful as those from the History of Scotland. 



fME SNP. 



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THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOS. HOOD. With engravings 
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Well may we say, in the words of Tennyson, "Would he could have 
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THE ILIAD OF HOMER RENDERED INTO ENGLISH 
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THE COMPARATIVE EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
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The Comparative New Testament has been published by Porter & Coates. 
In parallel columns on each page are given the old and new versions of the 
Testament, divided also as far as practicable into comparative verses, s-o that 
it is almost impossible for the slightest new word to escape the notice of 
either the ordinary reader or the analytical student. It is decidedly the 
best edition yet published of the most interest-exciting literary production 
of the day. No more convenient form for comparison could be devised 
either for economizing time or labor. Another feature is the foot-notes, 
and there is also given in an appendix the various words and expressions 
preferred by the American members of the Revising Commission. The 
work is handsomely printed on excellent paper with clear, legible type. It 
contains nearly 700 pages. 

THE COUNT OF MONTE CEISTO. By Alexandre Dumas. 
Complete in one volume, with two illustrations by George G. 
White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

THE THREE GUARDSMEN. By Alexandre Dumas. Com- 
plete in one volume, with two illustrations by George G. 
White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

There is a magic influence in his pen, a magnetic attraction in his descrip- 
tions, a fertility in his literary resources which are characteristic of Dumas 
alone, and the seal of the master of light literature is set upon all his works. 
Even when not strictly historical, his romances give an insight into the 
hal)its and modes of thought and action of the people of the time described, 
which are not oifered in any other author's productions. 

THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By Sir Edward Bulwee 
Lytton, Bart. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and 
gold, $1.00. Alta edition, one illustration, 75 cts. 

JANE EYRE. By Charlotte Beonte (Currer Bell). New Li- 
brary Edition. With five illustratiotis by E. M. Wimperis. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. 

SHIRLEY. By Chaelotte Beonte (Currer Bell). New Library 
Edition. With five illustrations by E. M. WiMPEEis. 12mo. 
Clothj extra, black and gold, $1.00. 



PORTER & COATES PUBLICATIONS. 



VILLETTE. By Charlotte Bronte (Currer Bell). New Library- 
Edition. Witli five illustrations by E. M. Wimperis. 12mo. 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, |1.00. 

THE PEOFESSOE, EMMA and POEMS. By Charlotte Bronte 

(Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With five illustrations 
by E. M. Wimperis. 12ino. Cloth, extra, black and gold, §1.00. 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; red cloth, paper 
label, gilt top, uncut edges, per set, $5.00 ; balf calf, gilt, per set, 
$12.00. The four volumes forming the complete works of Char- 
lotte Bronte (Currer Bell). 

The wondrous power of Currer Bell's stories consists in their fiery insight 
into Hie human heart, their mercile.ss disseciion of passion, and their stern 
analysis of character and motive. The style of these productions possesses 
iiicndilile force, sometimes almost grim in its bare severity, then relapsing 
into p:issaa;es of melting pathos— always direct, natural, and eifective in its 
unpreteudlns,' strength. They exhibit, the identity which always belongs to 
■works of Reuiiis by the same author, though without the slightest approach 
to monotony. The characters portrayed by Currer Bell all have a strongly 
•marlted individuality. Once brought bpforo the imagination, they haunt 
tue memory like a strango dream. The sinewy, muscular strength of her 
writings guarantees their permanent duration, and thus i'ar they have lost 
nothing of their inteusity of interest since the period of their composition. 

CAPTAIN JACK THE SCOUT; or. The Indian Wars about Old 

Fort Daquesiie. An Historical Novel, with copious notes. 

By Charles McKnight. Illustrated with eight engravings. 

i2mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

A work of sueh rare merit and thrilling interest as to have been repiib- 

lislieJ b'jth in England and Germany. This genuine American historical 

woik ha< been received with extraordinary popular favor, and has "won 

golden opinions from all sorts of people" for its freshness, iis forest life, and 

its fiJelily to truth. In many instances it even corrects History and uses 

the drapory of fietion simply to enliven and illustrate the fact. 

It is a universal favorite with boih sexes, and with all ages and condi- 
tions, and is not only proving a marked and notable success in this country, 
but ha-i been eagerly taken up abroad and republished in London, England, 
and issued in two volumes in the far-lamed " Tauchuetz Edition " of Loipsic, 
Germany. 

OEANGE BLOSSOMS, FEESH AND FADED. By T. S. Arthur. 
Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 
"Orange Blossoms" contains a number of short stories of society. Like 
all of Mr. Arthur's works, it has a special moral purpose, and is especially 
addressed to the young who have just entered the marital experience, whom 
it pleasantly warns against those social and moral pitfalls into which they 
may almost innocently plunge. 

THE BKR EOOMS AT BEANTLEY; or, The Great Hotel Spec- 
ulation. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, 

black and gold, $1.50. 

" One of the best temperance stories recently issued." — N. Y. Commercial 

Advertiser. ' 

"Although it is in the form of a novel, its truthful delineation of charac- 
ters is such that in every village in the land you meet the broken manhood 
it pictures upon the streets, and look upon sad. tear-dimmed eyes of women 
and children. The characters are not overdrawn, but are as truthful as an 
artist's pencil could make them." — Iitier-Ooecet, Ckiooffo. 



10 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 

EMMA. By Jane Austen. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth,' extra, 
$1.25. 

MANSFIELD PARK. By Jane Austen. Illustrated. 12ino. 
Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE; and Northanger Abbey. By Jane 
Austen. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; and Persuasion. By Jane Austen. 
Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

The four volumes, forming the complete works of Jane Austen, 
in a neat box : Cloth, extra, per set, $5.00 ; red cloth, paper label, 
gilt top, uncut edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. 

"Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. In her novels 
she has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, common- 
place, all such as we meet everyday. Yet they are all as perfectly discrimi- 
nated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beinps. 
.... And almost all this is done by touches so delicate that they elude 
analysis, that they defy the powers of description, and that we know them 
to exist only by the general effect to which they have contributed." — Ma- 
cauiay's Assays. 

ART AT HOME. Containing in one volume House Decoration, 
by Rhoda and Agnes Gaekett; Plea for Art in the House, 
by W. J. LoFTiE ; Music, by John Hullah ; and Dress, by 
Mrs. Oliphant. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS AT RUGBY. By Thomas 
Hughes. Nev\r Edition, large clear type. With 36 illustra- 
tions after Caldecott and others. 12nio., 400 pp. Cloth, extra, 
black and gold, $1.25 ; half calf, gilt, $2.75. 
Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. , 

"It is difficult to estimate the amount of good which may be done by 
'Tom Brown's School L»ays.' It gives, in the main, a most faithful and 
intt'resting picture of our public schools, the most English institutions of 
England, and which educate the best and most powerful elements in our 
upper classes. But it is more than this; it is an attempt, a very noble and 
successful attempt, to Christianize the society of our youth, through the 
only practicable channel— hearty and brotherly sympathy with their feel- 
ings; a book, in short, which a father might well wish to see in the hands 
of his son." — London Times. 

TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. By Thomas Hughes. Illustrated. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50 ; half calf, gilt, $3.00. 

"Fairly entitled to the rank and dignity of an English classic. Plot, style 
afld truthfulness are of the soundest British character. Bacy, idiomatic, 
mirror-like, alwavs interesting, suggesting thought on the knottiest social 
anf. religious questions, now deeply moving by its unconscious pathos, and 
anon inspiring uproarious laughter, it is a work the world will not willingly 
let die." — N. Y. Christian Advocate. 



PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS, 11 



SENSIBLE ETIQUETTE OF THE BEST SOCIETY. By Mrs, 
H. O. Ward. Customs, manners, morals, and home culture, 
with suggestions how to word notes and letters of invitations, 
acceptances, and regrets, and general instructions as to calls, 
rules for watering places, lunches, kettle drums, dinners, re- 
ceptions, weddings, parties, dress, toilet and manners, saluta- 
tions, introductions, social reforms, etc., etc. Bound in cloth, 
with gilt edge, and sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of 
$2.00. 

LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN'S ETIQUETTE: A Complete 
Manual of the Manners and Dress of American Society. Con- 
taining forms of Letters, Invitations, Acceptances, and Eegrets. 
With a copious index. By E. B. Duffey. 12mo, Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1,50. 

"It is peculiarly an American boob, e.<!pecially adapted to onr people, and 
its greatest beauty is found in the fact that in every line and precept it in- 
culcates the principles of true politeness, instead of those formal rules that 
serve only to gild the surface without affecting the substance. It is admir- 
ably written, the style being clear, terse, and lorcible." — Sc. Louis Times. 

THE UNDEEGROUND CITY; or. The Child of the Cavern. 
By Jules Verne. Translated from the French by W. H. 
Kingston. With 43 illustrations. Standard Edition. 12mo, 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1,50, 

ABOUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS. By Jules Vee^je. 
Translated by Geo. M. Towle. With 12 full -page illustrations. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

AT THE NORTH POLE ; or, The Voyages and Adventures of 
Captain Hatteras. By Jules Vekne. With 130 illustrations 
by Eiou. Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and 
gold, $1.25. 

THE DESERT OF ICE ; or, The Further Adventures of Captain 
Hatteras. By Jules Verne. With 126 illustrations by Riou. 
Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEAS; or, 
The Marvellous and Exciting Adventures of Pierre Aronnax, 
Conseil his servant, and Ned Land, a Canadian Harpooner. By 
Jules Verne. Standard Edition, Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

THE WRECK OF THE CHANCELLOR, Diary of J. E. Kazallon, 
Passenger, and Martin Paz. By Jules Verne. Translated 
from the French by Ellen Frewer. With 10 illustrations. 
Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 
Jules Verne is so well known that the mere announcement of anythicg 
from his pen is Mifficient to create a denaand for it. One of his chief merits 
is the wonderful art with which he lays undpr contribution every branch of 
science and natural history, while he vividly describes with minute exact- 
ness all parts of the world aad its inhabitants. 



12 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 



THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS', or, Mirth and Marvels.- By 
Richard Harris Baeham (Thomas Ingoldsby, Esq.). New 
edition, printed from entirely new stereotype plates. Illus- 
trated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50; half calf, 
gilt, marbled edges, S3.00. 

"Of his poeticai powers it is not too much to say that, for originality of 
design and diction, for grand illustration and musical verse, they are not 
surpassed in the English language. The Witches' Frolic is second only to 
Tam O Shanter. But why recapitulate the titles of either prose or verse — 
since thpy liave been confess^-d liy every judgment to be singulaily rich in 
classic allusion and modern illustration. From the days of Hudibras to our 
time the drollery invested in rhymes has never been so amply or ielicitously 
exem pliti ed." ' — Bentley's Miscellany. 

TEN THOUSAND A YEAE. By Samuel C. Warren, author of 
"The Diary of a London Physician." Anew edition, care- 
fully revised, with three illustrations by George G. White. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1 50. 
"Mr. Warren has taken a lasting place among the imaginative writers of 
this period of English history. He possesses, in a remarkable manner, the 
tenderness of heart and vividiiess of feeling, as well as powers of description, 
which are essential to the delineation of the pathetic, apd which, when 
existing in the degree in which he enjoys them, fill his pages with scenes 
which can never be forgotten." — Sir Archibald Alison. 

THOMPSON'S POLITICAL ECONOMY; With Especial Refer- 
ence to the Industrial History of Nations. By Prof. E. E. 
= Thompson, of the University "of Pennsylvania. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, $1.50. 
This book possesses an especial interest at the present moment. The 
questions of Free Trade and Protection are before the country more directly 
than at any earlier period of our history. As a rule the works and text- 
books used in our American colleges are either of Knglish origin or teach 
Doctrines of a noliiical economy which, as Walter Bagehot says, was made 
for England. Prof. Thompson belongs to the Nationalist School of Econo- 
mists, to which Alexander Hamilton, Tench Coxe, Henry Clav, Matthew 
Carey, and his greater son, Henry C. Carey, Stephen Cohvell, 'and Jaraea 
Abram (Jatfield were adherents. He believes in that potcyof Protection 
to American iisdustry wliieh has had the sanction of every great American 
statesman, not excepting Thomas Jefferson and .John C. Calhoun. He makes 
his appeal to history in defence of that policy, showing that wherever a 
weaker or less advanced country has practiced Free Trade with one more 
powerful or richer, the former lias lost its ind«.?tries as well as its money, 
and has become economically dependent on the latter. Those who wish 
to learn what Is the real source of Irish poverty and discontent will find it 
here stated fully. 

The method of the book is historical. It is therefore no series of dry and 
abstract reasonings, such as repel readers from books of this cla-s. The 
writer does not ride the (7 priori nag, and say "this must be so," and " that 
must be conceded." He shows what has been true, and seeks to elicit the 
laws of the science from the experience of the world. The book overflows 
with facts told in an interesting manner. 

THE ENGLISH PEOPLE IN ITS THREE HOMES, and the 
. Practical Bearings of general European History. By Edward 
A. Freeman, LL.D., Author of the "Norman Conquest of 
England." 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1*75. 



PORTER & COATES PUBLICATIONS. 13 

HANDY ANDY. A Tale of Irish Life. By Samuel Lovee. New 
Library Edition, with two original illustrations by Geoege G. 
White. I'imo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 
"Decidirdly the best story of the day, full of frolic, genuine fun, and ex- 
quisite touches of Irish humor." — DabLin Monitor. 

CHAELES O'MALLEY, The Irish Dragoon. By Chaeles Levee. 
New Library Edition, with two original illustrations by F. 0. 
C. Daeley. 12mo. Cloth, extra, blaclj and gold, §1.25. 

HAREY LOEEEQUEE. By Chaeles Levee. New Libraiy 
Edition, with two original illustrations by Geo. G. White. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

"The Intense spirit and irolic of the author's sketches have made him 
one of the most successful writers of the day." — London Literary Gazelle. 

"The author is pre-eminent for his mirth-moving powers, for his acute 
sense of the ridiculous, for the hreadth of his humor, and his powers of 
dramatic writing wliich render his boldest conceptions with the happiest 
facility." — Londun Athenceum. 

"We hardly know how to convey an adequate notion of the exuherant 
■whim and drollery by which this writer is characterized. His works are a 
perpetual feast of gayety."-Jb^» Ball, London. 

POPULAR NATURAL HISTOEY. By the Rev. J. G. Wood, 
M.A. From entirely new electrotype plates, with five hun- 
dred ilktstrations by eminent artists. Ci-own 8vo. Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1.75. 
Mr. Wood is an amusing, instructive, and sensible writer — always doing 

good work in a good way — and his work on Natural History is without 

doubt his masterpiece. 

THE ODES OF HORACE. Translated into English verse, with 
Life and Notes, by Theodoee Maetin. With a fine portrait 
of Horace. 16mo. Cloth, extra, $1.00. 
Mr. Martin's translation lias been commended as preserving — more than 

any other — the spirit and grace of the original. It is the most successful 

attempt ever made to render into English tlie inimitable odes of Horace. 

The memoir prefixed to the volume is a most chaiming piece of biography. 

GREEK MYTHOLOGY SYSTEMATIZED. With complete Tables 
based on Hesiod's Theogony; Tables showing the relation of 
Greek Mythology and History, arranged from Grote's History 
of Greece; and Gladstone's Homeric Tables. With a full 
Index. By S. A. Scull. Profusely illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, 
black and gold, $1.50. 
"A book which will prove very useful to the student and man of letters, 
and of incalculable benefit as a hand-book." — Republic, Washington. 

"A real want is supplied by this hook, which is, in fact, a cyclopaedia of 
Greek Mythology, so far as tliat is possible in a single volume of reasonable 
size and moderate cost." — Eoening Mail, New York. 

"This text-hook on Mythology presents the subject in a more practical 
and more attractive style than any other work on the subject with which 
we are familiar, and we feel assured that it will at once take a leading posi- 
tion anrong books of its class."— TAe Teachsr, FhiCad-elphta. 



14 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 



THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas a Kempis. ' New 

and best edition, from entirely new electrotype plates, single 

column, large, clear type. 18mo. 

Plain Edition, round corners. Cloth, extra, red edges, 50 cents; 

French morocco, gilt cross, 75 cents; limp Eussia, inlaid cross, red 

under gold edges, $2.00. 

Red Line Edition, round corners. ^ Cloth, black and gold, red 
edges, 75 cents; cloth, black and gold, gilt edges, $1.00; French 
morocco, red under gold edges, $1.50; limp Eussia, inlaid cross, red 
under gold edges, $2.50 ; limp Russia, solid gilt edges, box circuit, 
$3.00 ; limp calf, red under gold edges, $2.50 ; limp calf, solid gilt 
edges, box circuit, $3.00. 

THE WORDS AND MIND OF JESUS AND FAITHFUL PEOM- 

ISER. By Rev. J. R. Macduff, D.D., author of "Morning and 

Night Watches." New and best edition, from entirely new 

electrotype plates, single column, large, clear type. 18mo. 

Plain Edition, round corners. Cloth, extra, red edges, 50 cents; 

French morocco, gilt cross, 75 cents; limp Russia, inlaid cross, red 

under gold edges, $2.00. 

Red Line Edition, round corners. Cloth, black and gold, red 

edges, 75 cents; cloth, black and gold, gilt edges, $1.00; limp calf 

or Russia, red under gold edges, $2.50. 

A DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE. Comprising its Antiquities, 
Biography, Geography, Natural History, and Literature. 
Edited by William Smith, LL.D. Revised and adapted to 
the present use of Sunday-school Teachers and Bible Students 
by Rev. F. N.and M. A. Peloubet. With eight colored maps 
and over 350 engravings on wood. 8vo. Cloth, extra, black 
and gold, $2.00; sheep, marbled edges, $3.00; half morocco, 
gilt top, $3.50. 
"No similar work in our own or in any other language is for a moment to 
be compared with Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bilile. The Christian and 
the scholar have a treasure-lioiise on every subject connected willi the 
Bihle, full to overflowing, and minute even to the telling of mint and cum- 
min." — London Quarterly Review. 

COMPREHENSIVE BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. Embra- 
cing accounts of the most eminent persons of all ages, nations, 
and professions. By E. A. Thomas. Crown Bvo. Cloth, extra, 
gilt top, $2.50; sheep, marbled edges, $3.00; half morocco, gilt 
top, $3.50; half Russia, gilt top, $4.50. 
The aim of the publishers in issuing this work is to present in convenient 
size and at moderate price a comprehensive dictionary of biography, em- 
bracing accounts of the most eminent personages in all ages, countries, and 
professions. 

During the last quarter of a century so many important events have been 
enacted, such as the Civil War in America and the Franco-Prussian War of 
1870, and such great advances have been made in the line of invention and 
scientific investigation, that within that period many persons have risen by 
superior merit to conspicuous positions ; and as the plan of this work em- 
braces accounts of the living as well as of the dead, many names are iO' 
eluded that are not to be found in other dictionaries of biography. 



PORTER & COATSS PUBLICATIONS. 15 

THE HOESE IN THE STABLE AND THE FIELD. His Man- 
agement in Health and Disease. By J. H. Walsh, F.R.C.S. 
(Stonehenge.) From the last London edition. Illustrated 
with over 80 engravings, and full-page engravings from photo- 
graphs. 12mo." Cloth, extra, bev. boards, black and gold, $2.00. 
" It sustains its claim to be the only work which has brought together la 
a single volume, and in clear, concise, and comprehensive language, adequate 
information on the various subjects on which it treats." — Harper's 3Ing:izine. 
"This is the best English book on the horse, revised and improved by- 
competent persons for publication in this country. It is the most complete 
work on the subject, probably, in tlie English language, and that, of course, 
means the most complete in existence. Everything relating to a horse that 
history, srience, observation, or practical knowledge can furnish, has a place 
in it." — Worcester Daily Spy. 

THE HORSE. By William Youatt, together with a General 
History of the Horse; a dissertation on the American Trotting 
Horse, and an essay on the Ass and the Mule. By J. S. Skin- 
ner. With a beautiful engraving on steel of the famous 
"West Australian," and 58 illustrations on wood. 8vo. Cloth, 
extra, blacii and gold, $1.75. 

BOOK OF THE FARM. The Handy-book of Husbandry. Con- 
taining Practical Information in Regard to Buying or Leasing 
a Farm; Fences and Farm Buildings, Farming implements. 
Drainage, Plowing, Subsoiling, Manuring, Rotation of Crops, 
Care and Medical Treatment of the Cattle, Sheep, and Poul- 
try; Management of the Dairy; Useful Tables, etc. By 
George E. Waring, Jr., of Ogden Farni, author of " Drain- 
ing for Profit and for Health," etc. New edition, thoroughly 
revised by the author. With 100 illustrations. 12mo. Cloth. 
extra, black and gold, $2.00. 

AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY; or, The Natural History of the 
Birds of the United States. Bv Alexander Wilson and 
Charles Lucien Bonaparte. Popular Edition, complete in 
one volume imperial octavo. 1200 pages and nearly 400 illus- 
trations of birds. Formerly published at $100; row published 
at the low price: Cloth, extra, black and gold, $7.50; half 
morocco, marbled edges, $12.50. 
This large and handsome volume, printed in a snperior manner on good 
paper from the original stereotvpe jilates of the larger edition, contains the 
Lite of Wilson, occupying 182 pages; a full Catalogue of North American 
Birds, furnished by Professor Spencer F. Baird, of the Smithsonian Institu- 
tion ; Compl te Index, with the names of over 900 birds described in the 
text, and IS illustratt-d with nearly 400 figures of birds engraved on wood. 
It IS exactly the same size as the larger edition, with the exception that the 
enarravings are reduced in size and are not colored, reproducing every line 
of the original edition. It is one of the best books of permanent value 
(strictly an American book) ever published, noted for its beauty of diction 
and tiower of description, pre-eminent as ttie ablest work on Ornith(dogy, 
and now published at a moderate price, that places it within the reach of 
all. Every lover of birds, every school, public or family library should 
have this book. We know of no other way in which so much pleasure, so 
much iulormation, and so much usefulness can be ha4 for the price. 



16 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 

AMERICAN CHESS PLAYER'S HAND-BOOK. TeacMng the 
Eudiments of the Ganie, and giving an Analysis of all the 
recognized openings: Exemplified by appropriate Games act- 
ually played by Paul Morphy, Harrwitz, Anderssen, Staunton, 
Paulsen, Montgomery, Meek, and others. Trom the works of 
Staunton and others. Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

AMERICAN GARDENER'S ASSISTANT. Containing complete 
Practical Directions for the Cultivation of Vegetables, Flowei-s, 
Fruit Trees, and Grape Vines. By Thomas Beidgman. New- 
edition, revised and enlarged, by S. Edwards Todd. With 
70 illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $2.00. 

DISEASES OF THE HORSE, AND HOW TO TREAT THEM. 
A concise Manual of Special Pathology, for the use of Horse- 
men, Farmers, Stock Raisers, and Students in Agricultural 
Colleges. By Robert Chawner. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

JERSEY, ALDERNEY, AND GUERNSEY^ COW^S. Their His- 
tory, Nature, and Management. Edited from the writings of 
Edward P. Fowler, George E. Waring, Jr., Charles L. Sharp- 
less, Prof. John Gamgee, C. P. Le Coruu, Col. La Couteur, 
Prof. Magne, Fr. Guenon, Dr. Twaddell, and others, by 
Willis P. Hazard. 8vo. Illustrated with about 30 engrav- 
ings, diagrams, etc. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

THE TROTTING HORSE OF AMERICA. How to Train and 
Drive him, with Reminiscences of tlie Trotting Turf. By 
Hiram Woodruff. Edited by Charles J. Foster. Includ- 
ing an Introductory Notice by George Wilkes, and a Bio- 
graphical Sketch by the Editor. 20th edition, revised and 
brought down to 187S, and containing a full account of the 
famous " Rarus." With a steel portrait of the author, and six 
engravings on wood of celebrated trotters. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $2.50. 

PORTER & COATES' INTEREST TABLES. Containing accurate 
calculations of interest at i, 1, 2, 3, 3 V, 4, A], 5, 6, 7, 8 and 10 per 
cent, per annum, on all sums from $1.00 fo $10,000, and from 
one day to six years. Also some very valuable tables, calcu^- 
lated by John E. Coffin. Bvo. Cloth, extra, $1.00. 

READY RECKONER (The Improved,) FORM AND LOGBOOK. 
The Trader's, Farmer's and Merchant's useful assistant. Con- 
taining Tables of Values, Wages, Interest, Scantling, Board, 
Plank and Log Measurements, IBusiness Forrn^, etc. ISmo. 
Boards, cloth back, illustrated cover, 25 cents. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



030 242 492 5 



